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TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


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Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


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CIHM/ICMH 

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The 
toti 


The 
posi 
of  tl 
film 


Orifi 

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the 

sion 

oth( 

first 

sion 

or  il 


The 
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Map 
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10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

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y 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

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32X 

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details 
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6es 


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re 


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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
iliustrent  la  m6thode. 


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2 

3 

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2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

THE  IV INN  IP  EG  COUNTRY. 


4 


fl 


l\ 


fl 
III 


^^\ 


THE 


WINNIPEG    COUNTRY 


OR 


Toughing  it  with  an  Eclipse  Tarty 


BY 


A.  ROCHESTER  FELLOW 


With  Thirty-tivo  Illustrations  and  a  Map 


/ 


■  A 


BOSTON 

CUPPLES,    UPHAM,   &    COMPANY 

STfjc  ©lb  Corner  ^Sooftstore 

283  WASHINGTON  STREET 
1886 


i 


Copyright,  1886, 
By  CUPPLES,  UPHAM,  &  CO. 


All  rights  resemed. 


J 


If 


ELECTKOTYPED   AND   PRINTED 

BY    RANU,    AVERY,    ANI>    COMl'ANY, 

liOSTON,    MASS. 


TO 


THE   OTHER  EELLOWS, 


I 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 
I.  —  How  WE  REACIIKD  THE  STARTINO-PoINT. 

—  Pioneer  Staging 9 

II.  —  The  Outfit 19 

III.  —  Half-Breeds,  Indians,  and  Mosqui- 

toes    26 

IV.  —  Paddling,  Pemmican,  and  Patience  .  41 
V.  —  Portaging,  Poling,  and  Promises  .    .  56 

VI.  —  Eclipse  Observations  under  Difficul- 
ties.—  An  Oasis 69 

VII.  —  Down  the  River.  —  Rapids  and  Mos- 
quitoes AGAIN n 

VlIL  — Lake  Navigation.  —  Delay  and  Star- 
vation AHEAD 86 

IX.  —  The  Bishop's  Loaf.  —  A  Run  of  Luck  .  95 
X.  — A  Unique  Settlement  and  its  Neigh- 
bors    108 

XL  — Three  Weeks  in  an  Ox-Cart    ...  128 

Appendix 142 


THE  WINNIPEG  COUNTRY. 


I. 

How  we   reached  the  Starting-point,  — 
Pioneer  Staging. 

O-O-O-O,  boys  !  Hu-u-iih  !  Huh  ! 
hull !  huh  !  hu-u-u-u-uh  !  "  called 
George,  and  in  an  instant  our  little 
camp  is  astir.  We  hear  the  men  tugging 
to  overturn  and  raise  the  canoe ;  and  their 
interjections  over,  we  know  it  is  being 
carried  to  the  water.  "  We  might  as  well 
get  up,"  says  Ides,  "  or  we  shall  have  the 
tent  on  our  heads."  So  out  into  the  gray 
dawn  we  rush,  —  three  unkempt  mortals, 
—  to  do  our  jawning  in  the  open  air.'  The 
murky  waters  of  Lake  Winnipeg  plash 
gently  at  our  feet,  as  we  stretch  our  eyes 

9 


10 


Pioneer  Staging. 


over  the  sky  to  see  what  the  prospects  of 
the  day  may  be.  In  a  marvellously  short 
time  the  North  Canoe  is  loaded  ;  and, 
as  the  last  instalment,  we  are  ourselves 
seized  by  stalwart  men,  and  carried  there 
like  babies.  Here,  settling  ourselves  as 
comfortably  as  we  may,  half  reclining  on 
our  blankets,  while  the  men  paddle  to  the 
rhythm  of  Narcisse's  quaint  song,  we  try 
to  recover  before  early  sunrise  the  remain- 
der of  the  sleep  so  rudely  broken  in  upon. 
We  had  started,  three  of  us,  —  Simon 
Tarr,  Thomas  Ides,  and  Francis  Lutterby, 
—  nearly  a  month  before,  from  Eastern  civ- 
ilization, and  were  bound  for  a  point  in  the 
heart  of  the  Western  wilds,  about  midway 
between  Hudson  Strait  and  Vancouver 
Island.  From  east  to  west  across  the 
continent,  from  Northern  Labrador  to 
Northern  Oregon,  stretched  a  narrow  belt 
ir  whicl  for  a  brief  five  minutes  on  a  mid- 
July  d?}  che  sun,  shortly  after  its  rising, 
v'ouliJ  1>^  totally  eclipsed.  To  observe 
this,   was  our  errand.     The   Government 


Across  the  Prairies. 


II 


had  despatched  two  of  its  astronomers  on 
this  six-thousand-mile  journey  for  the  in- 
formation they  were  to  gain  on  this  single 
day,  while  a  university  museum  had  added 
an  assistant  for  the  work,  that  opportunity 
might  be  given  through  him  to  increase 
its  stores  from  the  little-explored  regions 
through  which  the  expedition  would  pass. 
We  had  only  entered  the  Upper  Lake 
the  day  before,  and  had  still  before  us  the 
long  west  coast  with  the  detour  of  Kitch- 
inashi,  and  on  the  river,  the  portage, 
the  rapids,  and  the  long  swift-flowing 
stream.  Detention  had  come  at  least 
expected  times.  Three  days  had  carried 
us  to  the  confines  of  civilization  at  St. 
Paul,  where  half  as  much  time  was  lost  in 
arranging  for  transit  across  the  prairies, 
over  which  a  weekly  stage-line  had  just 
been  put  in  operation  by  Burbank  &  Co. 
We  were  to  traverse  it  in  five  days,  but 
six  were  finally  required.  An  old-fash- 
ioned stage  took  us  the  first  day  to  St. 
Cloud.     We   then  chantred  to  a  Concord 


12 


Pioneer  Staging, 


wagon,  in  which  by  eight  o'clock  of  the 
second  clay  we  reached  the  town  of  Kan- 
dota,  and  found  ourselves  fairly  on  the 
frontier,  the  town  consisting  of  two  con- 
nected log-houses  and  a  barn,  and  the 
inhabitants    numb'^ring    five. 

The  days  passed  from  bad  to  worse ; 
for  not  only  were  the  roads  mere  trails, 
and  where  they  ran  through  timbered 
country  excessively  rough  and  heavy,  but 
there  had  been  for  some  days  heavy 
rains,  and  every  little  while  it  was,  "Out, 
gentlemen  !  slewed  again  !  "  Through 
rods  of  mire  and  wet  grass  did  we  often 
have  to  lug  by  hand  our  personal  effects, 
telescopes,  and  heavy  chests  of  alcohol, 
to  repack  upon  the  farther  side  of  some 
slough.  Happy  for  us  if  a  fence  were 
near  when  the  stage-wheels  cut  through 
the  yielding  sod,  for  we  soon  acquired 
the  art  of  "railing."  Once  our  plight 
seemed  really  hopeless  ;  for  in  mid-prairie, 
miles  from  tree  or  bush,  not  to  mention 
fence,     we     were     suddenly    and      badly 


> 

O 

o 

> 


^ 


O      ^!^ 


H        rrr^ 


r 


"Slewed  Again." 


13 


"slewed."  Our  hind-wheels  went  in  to 
the  hub,  the  front-wheels  nearly  as  far ; 
our  four  horses  were  so  benriired,  that,  still 
in  erect  posture,  they  settled  down  to  rest 
upon  their  bellies.  All  the  baggage  had 
to  go  into  the  mire ;  and  at  last,  by  the 
help  of  a  stray  rail,  the  frantic  efforts  of 
the  horses,  and  the  voluminous  blasphemy 
of  the  driver,  the  empty  wagon  was 
dragged  out  to  reach  solid  ground  again 
some  twenty  rods  distant,  to  which  point 
we  must  ourselves  carry  our  baggage. 
This  was  the  way  we  journeyed  in  the 
specially  chartered  stage  for  which  we 
had  prepaid  a  heavy  price. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  at  night  the  third 
day  before  we  made  Evansville,  another 
town  of  one  house,  the  population  of  which 
our  party  doubled  that  night.  The  next 
day  the  noon  relay  of  horses  was  missing, 
and  we  had  to  take  the  same  team  through 
to  Breckenridge.  We  were  further  obliged 
by  the  miry  road  to  divide  our  living  freight 
from  our  baggage,  and  to  take  two  spring- 


f4  Pioneer  Staging, 

less  lumber-wagons  with  broader  tires, 
which  did  not  add  to  our  enjoyment.  Nor 
were  we  wholly  free  from  concern  about 
the  Indians,  especially  after  dark,  as  the 
Chippewas  had  stolen  an  ox  from  Evans- 
ville  the  very  night  before  we  were  there, 
and  were  known  to  be  on  the  war-path, 
searching  in  the  neighborhood  for  a  party 
of  sixty  Sioux,  said  to  have  crossed  over 
from  Dacotah,  toward  which  country  we 
were  then  moving.  What  if  we  were 
taken  for  Sioux?  We  looked  very  like 
them  in  the  dark !  As  it  happened  in- 
deed, a  few  weeks  later,  Indians  attacked 
one  of  Burbank's  stages  at  Breckenridge. 
But  our  worst  enemy  at  the  moment  were 
the  mosquitoes ;  and  a  most  woe-begone 
set  were  we  that  night,  sitting  with  legs 
wet  to  the  knee  from  frequent  sloughs, 
wrapped  head  and  foot  with  blankets  to 
keep  off  the  mosquitoes,  tired  to  death 
with  our  jolting,  half-starved,  and  with 
small  prospect  of  getting  anywhere. 
Breckenridge   was   a  more   flourishing 


C/3 


o 


The  Original  Breckenridge.         15 


place,  though  it  had  no  such  appearance 
to  us  as  we  entered  at  midnight  the 
shanty,  half  log-house,  half  dug-out,  which 
already  sheltered  ten  men  packed  in  rows, 
and  lay  ourselves  down  on  the  floor  in 
buffalo  robes  to  peaceful  slumbers.  We 
had  reached  the  Red  River ;  and  evidently 
at  least  a  city  was  expected,  for  here  was 
a  steam  saw-mill.  The  country  for  a  mile 
around  was  staked  off  into  streets  and 
house-lots ;  and  house  No.  i  —  a  four-story 
frame  dwelling  —  had  boldly  chosen  the 
centre  of  the  prospective  town,  quite  by 
itself  in  the  middle  of  the  prairie.  By 
this  time  we  had  discovered  that  a  stake 
pushed  into  the  ground  constituted  a  set- 
tlement ;  a  claim-shanty,  a  town ;  and  a 
log-house  with  a  bit  of  fenced  ground  ad- 
joining it,  a  city.  From  the  account  of 
a  traveller  two  years  later,  Breckenridge 
enjoyed  then  the  same  unique  character.* 
I  am  bound  to  add,  that  we  were  not  out 
of  gun-shot   of  that   frame-house,  as  we 

^  See  Appendix. 


i6 


Pioneer  Singing, 


drove  off  at  six  the  next  morning,  before 
we  drew  trigger  on  a  j^rairie  wolf  that 
crossed  our  path. 

Our  course  now  lay  down  the  Red 
River ;  here  the  road  by  the  timber  belt 
was  so  bad,  and  the  horses  so  fatigued, 
that  we  were  obliged  to  walk  them  the 
entire  distance  travelled  that  day,  bringing 
up  at  a  claim-shanty  just  erected  (Camp- 
bell's), its  flooring  the  bare  ground,  and 
so  damp  that  we  pitched  our  tent  by  pref- 
erence. The  sixth  day,  obtaining  a  relay 
of  horses  twenty-four  miles  on,  we  man- 
aged to  reach  the  end  of  our  stage  route 
by  six  o'clock.  This  was  at  Georgetown, 
a  post  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  at 
the  head  of  steamboat  navigation  on  the 
Red  River,  and  a  very  recent  settlement, 
the  officer  in  charge  having  reached  here 
but  a  few  days  before  ourselves.  An  un- 
finished dwelling-house,  a  warehouse,  and 
some  rude  stables  were  the  only  perma- 
nent buildings  yet  erected ;  but  a  dozen 
tents,  and  as  many  white-topped  emigrant 


I-    i] 


w 


{/) 


50 


« 


Primitive  Steamboating.  %f 

wagons,  gave  the  place  an  appearance  of 
activity  which  five  days'  worth  of  one- 
house  towns  made  us  appreciate. 

Here  we  spent  a  day  and  a  couple  of 
nights  (the  latter  made  memorable  to  us 
by  the  howling  of  wolves)  before  the  An- 
son Northrup  was  ready  to  start.  Even 
steamboating  of  the  type  Red  River  then 
furnished  was  a  novelty  to  us.  Like  Le 
Stanley  on  the  Kongo,  the  Anson  North- 
rup had  the  year  before  been  carried  in 
pieces  across  the  country,  to  launch  in 
this  virgin  stream.  She  was  any  thing 
but  a  picturesque  craft;  —  a  stern-wheeler, 
with  a  bow  oar,  or  sweep,  worked  by  deck 
hands,  necessary  in  steaming  around  the 
exceedingly  tortuous  course  of  the  upper 
reaches  of  the  river,  where  we  would  often 
see  beside  us,  separated  only  by  a  narrow 
ridge,  a  stream  flowing  in  the  opposite 
direction  to  our  own,  between  banks  we 
had  passed  an  hour  before. 

When  wood  gave  out,  we  hauled  up  by 
the  bank,  where  some  Indian  had  corded 


II" 


-I 


I 

If 


i 


M 


i8 


Pioneer  Staging. 


a  little  for  the  boat's  use ;  or,  if  this 
was  not  forthcoming,  the  whole  ship's 
crew  was  set  to  felling  trees  across  the 
open  bow,  which  were  then  cut  into  proper 
lengths  on  deck,  as  we  pushed  our  way 
northward.  Our  party  occupied  half  the 
passenger  list ;  but  the  boat's  complement 
consisted  of  twenty  men,  with  whom  we 
naturally  mixed  a  good  deal  in  the  two 
and  a  half  days  in  which  we  were  shut  up 
with  them  on  this  tug.  The  watchman 
pro/ed  a  most  interesting  fellow, — a  typi- 
cal frontiersman  of  the  story-teller,  who 
carried  his  pocket  Virgil,  Homer,  and  Mil- 
ton with  him  on  buffalo  hunts  and  scout- 
ing expeditions,  yet  could  live  only  in 
contact  with  wild  nature. 


AXE  FURNISHED  TO  INDIANS  BY  THE  HUDSON 
BAY  COMPANY. 


-«. 

mm 

s=-^__^^-^iPM'  ■  ^  :sb 

II. 


7^^  Ow/^/. 

E  lost  no  time  when  we  finally 
arrived  at  the  Red  River  settle- 
ments —  this  bit  of  ruder  Euro- 
pean life,  thrown  haphazard  into  the 
wilderness  —  in  making  known  to  the 
authorities  our  mission,  and  receiving 
from  them  quick  and  effective  aid.  We 
were  immediately  despatched  down  the 
river  on  a  pointed  mud-scow,  which  they 
termed  a  "barge,"  and  confided  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  a  couple  of  Saulteaux 
Indians,  cadaverous  looking  fellows,  who, 
in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  following, 
brought  us  to  the  "Lower"  or  "Stone" 
Fort,  half  way  to  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
and  here  we  made  the  outfit  for  our  canoe- 
voyage. 

«9 


1 


I 


20 


The  Outfit. 


Such  things  are  quickly  arranged  at  a 
post,  the  chief  end  of  which  is  to  receive 
and  despatch  traders.  Still,  ours  was  a 
somewhat  unusual  mission.  The  old  North 
Canoe  of  Sir  George  Simpson  was  brought 
out,  one  of  the  largest  birches  ever  con- 
structed for  use  ;  it  measured  thirty-three 
feet  in  length,  and  in  the  middle  was  five 
feet  three  inches  wide.  It  would  carry 
seventeen  men  and  their  ordinary  light 
luggage ;  but  we  had  heavy  baggage,  and 
must  provision  for  thirty-five  days,  so  the 
voyageurs  must  be  few  in  number,  active, 
stalwart  fellows.     We  had  six  in  all. 

The  guide  must  be  the  first  choice ;  and 
George  Kippling,  a  half-breed  Chippeway, 
was  recommended  for  that  service  by  the 
governor  of  the  province,  as  "the  best 
guide  in  the  country."  We  looked  him 
over,  a  fine,  straight,  honest-looking,  wiry, 
sharp  -  featured  fellow  of  about  fifty-five 
years,  with  a  short  grizzly  beard,  and  long 
black  locks  tinged  with  gray  falling  on 
his  shoulders,  and  took  him  off-hand.     He 


Our  Chef. 


21 


proved  to  be  all  that  was  said  of  him,  — 
a  tireless,  wonderful  fellow,  of  intense 
energy  and  devotion,  on  the  watch  for 
every  opportunity  to  push  on  (yet  inspir- 
ing confidence  by  his  caution),  obliging, 
full  of  thought  for  our  comfort,  and  of 
abounding  good -nature  and  merriment. 
With  his  broad,  flat,  pan-cake  like  Scotch 
c^p  set  jauntily  on  one  side  of  his  head, 
a  red  flannel  shirt,  and  a  pair  of  trousers 
shaped  like  a  long  bag,  with  very  short 
legs,  I  can  see  him  now,  as  he  half -sits, 
half-stands,  at  the  stern,  his  large  sweep 
paddle  incessantly  in  motion  on  one  side 
or  the  other  even  while  the  men  rest, 
keeping  them  in  good-humor  when  their 
spirits  flag  by  his  sly  remarks  or  banter- 
ing. We  engaged  him  for  £6  los.  for 
the  trip. 

He  next  selected  other  men,  bringing 
them  to  us  early  the  next  day  for  our  ap- 
proval. First  the  ''booseman,"  who  must 
be  a  quick-eyed  fellow,  ready  in  emer- 
gencies, especially  upon  the  river;  and  to 


i! 


i  i 


I  -  , 


i 


22  The  Outfit, 

him  we  give  £$  los.  George  Whiteford, 
a  Swampy  Cree,  the  only  full-blooded  In- 
dian of  the  party,  was  chosen,  —  a  power- 
ful, thick-set  fellow,  whom  we  christened 
Boozie.  The  others  are  engaged  for 
£4  los.  One,  Narcisse  Chastelland,  the 
only  Catholic  of  the  party,  served  as  gen- 
eral interpreter,  as  he  spoke  English, 
French,  Chippeway,  and  Cree ;  sprightly, 
careless,  and  vivacious,  he  betrayed  his 
French  extraction,  and  was  at  once  the 
life  of  the  party  and  the  leader  in  its 
songs.  Another,  John  Omand,  was  an 
Orkneyman  born  at  Red  River,  and  the 
least  interesting  of  all,  though  quite  as 
brown  as  any  of  them.  He  was  the  only 
green  hand,  and  his  toughness  was  sorely 
tested  by  the  trip.  Billy  Tate,  a  half  breed 
Swampy  Cree,  with  tremendous  develop- 
ment of  muscle,  fat,  and  good-nature,  was 
engaged  also  as  cook  and  general  servant. 
Tarr  thought  Billy  the  ugliest  man  he 
ever  saw,  who  led  a  sober  life.  "  An  Epi- 
curean," said  he,  **  would  at  first  sight  have 


:  1 


The  yoyageurs,  23 

claimed  him  as  a  fortuitous  concourse  of 
atoms,"  —  a  claim  which  an  inspection  of 
his  lower  lip  would  have  confirmed,  this 
member  having  evidently  been  intended 
for  a  man  of  double  his  size,  and  could 
not  be  made  to  fit  even  his  enormous 
mouth ;  it  was  adorned  also  with  about  a 
dozen  straggling,  tapering  hairs.  Francis 
Sinclair,  a  half-breed  with  more  Swampy 
Cree  than  British  blood  in  him,  filled  up 
the  quota. 

The  height  of  the  men  varied  from 
five  feet  four  inches  to  five  feet  nine  and 
a  half  inches,  averaging  five  and  a  half 
feet ;  the  average  measurement  of  chest 
was  a  little  more  than  forty-one  inches, 
of  the  humerus  nearly  thirteen  inches, 
and  of  the  forearm  a  little  more  than 
eleven  inches.  Excepting  the  guide,  they 
all  dressed  much  alike.  A  shirt  and 
trousers  fastened  by  a  belt,  with  place  in 
it  for  tobacco  pouch  and  knife,  with  a  pair 
of  moccasons,  appeared  to  be  their  only 
garments.     All  wore  long  hair  and  rarely 


[ 

1 


s\ 


l\ 


■  ! 


24 


The  Outfit. 


8 


put  on  a  hat  or  cap.  Narcisse  parted  his 
hair  at  the  side  and  left  it  free  ;  the  others 
in  the  middle  and  fastened  by  a  handker- 
chief bound  around  the  forehead.  Their 
trousers  were  fastened,  just  below  the 
knee,  by  a  sort  of  garter  made  of  twisted 
grasses,  and  to  which  the  lower  leg  was 
usually  rolled.  As  for  language,  they 
used  Chippeway  or  Cree  "as  came  handy." 
The  provisioning  of  the  party  was  the 
next  step.  For  the  men  this  was  ex- 
tremely simple,  —  336  pounds  of  flour  and 
the  same  of  pemmican  told  all ;  but  they 
laid  in  for  themselves,  from  the  portion 
of  pay  advanced  them,  a  liberal  allow- 
ance of  tea  and  sugar.  Our  own  stores 
were  abundant  but  rude,  consisting  of 
pemmican,  60  pounds ;  ham,  36  pounds ; 
salt  beef,  50  pounds;  salt  pork,  45  pounds; 
dried  buffalo  meat,  37  poi  ids;  flour,  75 
pounds ;  biscuit,  75  pounds ;  potatoes,  i 
bushel;  tea,  4  pounds;  sugar,  12  pounds; 
butter,  10  pounds;  with  salt,  pepper,  and 
mustard.      Our    utensils   (the    men    fur- 


Our  Provisions, 


25 


nished  those  for  their  own  mess)  were 
equally  primitive  :  knife,  fork,  and  spoon, 
an  iron  plate,  and  a  tin  dipper,  each ;  with 
a  frying  pan,  iron  tea-pot,  tin  boiling  ket- 
tle, and  wash-dish  for  all  cooking  and 
culinary  purposes.  Gunny  bags  served 
as  receptacles  for  all  these  articles,  and 
some  large  pieces  of  oiled  cloth  were  sup- 
plied to  keep  rain  from  provisions  and 
baggage  whether  ashore  or  afloat.  The 
bags  serve  admirably  for  packing  where 
compactness  is  requisite,  as  in  a  canoe 
carrying,  besides  the  half-ton  of  provisions, 
nine  men  with  personal  baggage,  and  ^he 
heavy,  cumbrous  boxes  for  instruments 
and  collections. 


!i 


I 


THE    LUWEK    KEU    KIVIiK    (AFTER    HINU). 


^v.^ 


* 


III. 


I# 


ill 


Half 'Breeds,  Indians,  and  Mosquitoes. 

OUR  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
eighteen  clays  after  our  departure 
from  the  East,  first  saw  us  afloat 
in  the  slight  craft  which  was  to  carry  us 
finally  to  our  destination.  It  was  another 
seven  days  before  we  gained  the  Cat 
Head  on  the  western  shore  from  which 
we  are  now  at  last  about  to  start.  We 
had  spent  nearly  two  of  these  at  the 
very  entrance  to  the  lake,  encamped  upon 
a  sand-bar,  waiting  for  a  sea  calm  enough 
to  venture  on.  We  had  pushed  on  by 
night  or  day,  as  chance,  wind,  or  wave 
favored,  and  by  this  time  were  well  in- 
troduced to  the  meagre  mysteries  of  the 
voyageur's   life,  —  pemmican,  mosquitoes, 

and  patience. 
«6 


c 

7^ 


H 

X 

w 

I 


w 


i 


A  Sick  lihiian. 


27 


At  Sandy  Bar,  wc  encountered  the  first 
Indians  we  saw  away  from  civilization. 
They  were  camped  only  a  little  distance 
from  the  place  we  reached  at  midnight, 
and  came  at  once  to  pay  us  a  visit,  glum 
and  grim,  smoking  their  long  stone  pipes. 
The  next  morning,  learning  that  they  had 
a  sick  boy  with  them,  Lutterby,  our  nat- 
uralist and  ex-officio  medicine  -  man,  paid 
them  a  visit,  taking  Billy  as  interpreter. 
There  were  but  two  lodges,  low,  conical 
structures,  made  of  a  small  forest  of  poles, 
interwoven,  as  it  were,  with  birch-bark, 
with  a  small,  low  opening,  closed  by  a 
blanket,  which  could  be  thrown  back  and 
tucked  beneath  some  of  the  poles.  A 
crowd  of  gaunt,  wolfish-looking  dogs  gave 
an  unwelcome  salute  as  our  friends  ap- 
proached, and  then  slunk  away,  with  tails 
reversed  ;  a  dozen  dirty  little  heads  peered 
out  at  the  entrance-holes.  Billy  pushed 
his  way  unceremoniously  into  the  lodge 
where  the  sick  boy  lay ;  but  our  would- 
be  doctor  halted  at  first  just  within  the 


28 


hhiians  and  Mosqui/oes, 


fc 


entrance,  to  accustom  his  various  senses 
to  the  abrupt  change.  Within  this  hut 
of  about  ten  feet  diameter  were,  besides 
our  friends  and  the  sick  boy,  the  father, 
his  three  wives,  and  about  a  dozen  boys 
and  girls  of  various  ages  and  stages  of 
dress  and  undress.  A  fire  in  the  centre, 
where  one  of  the  women  was  tending  a 
Uttle  cake  of  flour  and  water, —  a  present 
from  our  boys,  —  filled  the  place  with 
smoke  ;  a  little  girl  was  picking  to  pieces 
a  half-fledged  gull ;  half-dried  and  wholly 
stinking  bits  of  fish  and  meat  were  hang- 
ing from  the  poles,  or  lying  about  in  the 
dirt ;  old  skins  and  blankets  closed  every 
crevice  next  the  ground  ;  and  the  poor  boy, 
in  a  raging  fever,  half  unconscious,  and 
with  but  a  few  hours  to  live,  wrapped  in  a 
filthy,  ragged  blanket,  lay  in  this  vile  at- 
mosphere, ,  at  the  farthest  side  froi.  the 
door.  It  was  a  sad  sight,  and  no  encoar- 
agement  of  hope  could  be  held  out.  An 
interjectory,  piteous  *'  Ah"^"a,"  was  the 
only  response  of  the  old  man  to  the  words 


' 


The  Free-Trader's  Barge, 


29 


of  sympathy  which  Billy  interpreted.  We 
sent  them  a  little  tea  and  sugar  from  our 
meagre  stock ;  and  when,  a  few  weeks 
later,  we  passed  that  way  again,  we  found 
the  inevitable  grave. 

Several  times  brigades  of  barges  passed 
us,  when  our  flag  of  stars  and  stripes, 
which  we  had  manufactured  along  the 
route,  was  saluted,  —  once  by  a  small  can- 
non from  one  of  the  barges ;  once,  also, 
by  the  rusty  flint-locks  of  an  Indian  trader 
close  at  hand,  in  a  barge  crowded  with 
Indians  of  all  sizes,  multitudinous  dogs, 
and  a  miscellaneous  cargo  of  merchandise, 
and  accompanied  by  a  dozen  canoes  filled 
with  women  and  children.  We  returned 
the  honor  with  our  fowling-piece,  as  our 
men  kept  up  a  running  chatter  and  banter 
with  the  swiftly  passing  squadron. 

These  barges,  by  the  way,  were  strange 
looking  craft,  the  only  boats,  besides  bi-ch 
canoes,,  then  found  on  the  waters  of  the 
lake.  They  looked  like  the  vessels  of  an- 
tiquity familiar  in  illustrated  school  histo- 


i    i 


4  \ 


-> 


i 


30 


Indians  and  Mosquitoes, 


ries,  low  amidships,  high  and  peaked  at 
bow  and  stern,  with  a  central  mast  held  in 
place  by  ropes  passing  from  the  peak  to 
both  ends  and  both  gunwales  ;  they  were 
about  thirty-five  feet  long  and  eight  or  ten 
feet  wide,  carried  a  single  square  sail,  or 
were  propelled  by  six  or  eight  oars,  — 
clumsy,  headlong  craft,  which  a  long 
sweep  oar  at  stern  managed  with  diffi- 
culty. 

The  Fourth  of  July  had  been  celebrated 
in  a  becoming  manner.  We  were  en- 
camped in  a  little  cove  at  the  Dog's  Head, 
and  had  spent  the  night  battling  with  the 
hungry  mosquitoes.  George  had  hardly 
finished  his  prolonged  morning  call,  when 
a  cannon  cracker,  which  one  of  the  philos- 
ophers had  poked  beneath  the  tent  wall 
into  the  open,  burst  with  a  fine  report. 
This  brought  George  in  an  instant  to  the 
spot  to  know  what  was  the  matter,  when 
the  fusillade  of  an  entire  bunch  thrown 
out  of  the  tent-door  brought  out  peals  of 
laughter  from  the  boys.     During  the  day 


Fireworks  and  Pickles. 


31 


one  of  them  having  gone  to  sleep,  a 
lighted  cracker  was  placed  by  his  compan- 
ions close  beside  his  head,  and  the  result 
received  with  the  most  boisterous  merri- 
ment. Not  less  amused  were  they  in  the 
evening  when  we  had  pin-wheels,  serpents, 
and  Roman  candles,  perhaps  the  first  fire- 
works which  ever  illumined  the  waters  of 
Lake  Winnipeg. 

Our  jolly  vogageurs  were  intensely  en- 
tertained, also,  at  the  performances  of  our 
naturalist.  This  worthy  employed  his 
time  largely  in  classifying  the  different 
kinds  of  mosquitoes,  which  seemed  to  be 
the  staple  animal  product  of  the  region, 
and  in  the  canoe  beguiled  the  weary  hours 
with  impaling  the  unlucky  ephemeras  and 
other  flying  beasts  that  lit  upon  the  broad 
back  of  Francis  Sinclair,  who  paddled 
directly  in  front  of  him.  He  had  his  lines 
out  on  all  possible  occasions,  but  only  once 
caught  any  thing.  Then  he  astonished  the 
natives  by  preventing  George  from  brain- 
ing a  fine  sunfish  which  would  have  made 


32 


Indians  and  Mosquitoes. 


an  excellent  meal,  and  gravely  depositing 
it  in  his  can  of  alcohol.  When  a  similar 
disposition  was  made  of  a  fine  cross  fox 
afterward  shot,  their  hilarity  knew  no 
bounds.  "  He's  gone  to  have  a  booze  with 
the  fish  !  "  exclaimed  George ;  and  more 
than  once  on  the  voyage  did  they  enjoy  a 
hearty  laugh  over  the  mere  remembrance 
of  it. 

The  scenery  of  the  lake  was  nowhere 
striking,  and  indeed  a  dull  monotony  of 
level  throughout  the  entire  journey  was 
one  of  its  characteristic  features.  Not  a 
hill  two  hundred  feet  high  was  seen  after 
leaving  the  Mississippi  until  we  returned 
to  it.  The  highest  point  on  the  lake  was 
the  cliff  at  Grindstone  Point,  about  thirty- 
five  feet  in  elevation,  unless  perchance 
it  were  exceeded  by  the  Cat  Head,  from 
which,  let  me  assure  the  reader,  we  shall 
soon  start.  The  west  shore  of  the  lake 
was  the  more  level  and  uninteresting,  the 
rock  being  a  nearly  level,  thinly  stratified 
limestone,    while   the   eastern    shore   was 


The  Winnipeg  Mosquito.  33 

formed  of  low  rounded  hills  of  granite  or 
other  heavily  bedded  rock ;  but  on  both 
sides  the  shore  was  backed  by,  or  formed 
of,  a  marsh,  or  "  muskeg "  as  it  is  called, 
densely  filled  with  tall  bulrushes  and  sedge, 
beyond  which  —  when  one  could  see  be- 
yond—  was  a  ragged  forest  of  tamarack, 
juniper,  and  spruce,  intermixed  near  the 
muskeg  with  willow,  "popple,"  and  alder. 
The  only  relief  was  in  the  many  islands 
which  filled  the  shallow  lake,  and  the 
indented  shore  line,  which  made  some 
pretty  bays. 

As  to  animal  liie,  aquatic  birds,  and 
especially  gulls  and  terns,  were  not  rare, 
and  in  some  places  exceedingly  abundant. 
Other  birds,  especially  songsters,  were  not 
common.  Fish  were  exceedingly  scarce, 
and  insects,  except  a  few  marsh  lovers,  not 
abundant. 

Yet  I  must  nut  pass  by  the  mosquito. 
No,  my  friend,  he  will  not  pass  by  you  ! 
Let  me  relate  the  history  of  a  single  night. 
We  entered  a  charming  little  cove  on  the 


IM 


34 


Indians  and  Mosquitoes. 


1  I 


eastern  coast  to  pass  the  night,  before  the 
long  traverse  to  the  western  shore.  Day- 
light was  turning  to  dusk.  Supper  over, 
eaten  with  haste  and  imprecations,  the 
philosophers  retired  to  their  tent,  lighted  a 
candle,  fastened  every  visible  opening  large 
enough  to  admit  a  mosquito,  and  then 
proceeded  to  slaughter  the  enemy  by  the 
hundreds,  by  the  vigorous  use  cf  stray 
garments,  burning  afterwards  with  the 
candle  such  as  sought  the  refuge  of  the 
ridgepole.  After  an  hour's  work,  the  num- 
ber was  perceptibly  diminished,  and  the 
tired  vanquishers  composed  themselves  for 
sleep.  At  first  all  was  peaceful  within  ; 
but  how  shall  we  adequately  describe  the 
sound  without  ?  Lutterby  suggested  that 
it  sounded  most  like  a  swarm  of  bees. 
Ides  compared  it  to  the  distant  hum  of  all 
the  spindles  of  Manchester,  blended  into 
a  musical  note.  It  seemed  to  pervade  all 
space,  and  it  struck  terror  to  the  heart 
as  it  seemed  to  grow  in  intensity.  Soon, 
however,  our  philosophers  had  occupation 


Can  he  Sing? 


35 


enough  to  forget  the  sound,  and  as  one 
beast  after  another,  in  rapid  succession, 
fell  on  the  forehead,  the  neck,  the  nose, 
they  were  obliged  to  draw  their  heavy 
blankets  over  their  heads  to  escape  them  : 
but  even  then  the  mosquitoes  seemed  to 
find  some  crevice,  and  it  was  too  stifling 
to  sleep  so. 

In  despair  our  philosophers  turned  to 
another  resort,  and  getting  up,  attempted 
—  while  the  mosquitoes  were  now  stinging 
them  from  head  to  foot,  through  double 
shirt  and  woollen  trousers  —  to  light  some 
green  wood  at  the  foot  of  the  tent,  and 
make  a  smudge.  This  subdued  the  mos- 
quitoes, and  nearly  choked  the  philoso- 
phers ;  but  under  cover  of  it,  they  lay 
down,  and  began  to  lose  themselves,  when 
again,  the  smudge  lifting  somewhat,  the 
advance  guard  were  at  them.  Lutterby 
pulled  his  insect  net  over  his  head,  and 
covered  it  about  the  throat  with  his  blan- 
ket ;  but  this  could  not  protect  the  nose, 
the  chin,  and  the  ears,  to  which,  to  his 


36 


Indians  and  Mosquitoes. 


«■  I 


- ;  ( 


I 


rage,  the  mosquitoes  flocked.  Another 
smudge  was  made  at  dead  of  night ;  and 
during  the  cabii  which  ensued  —  within, 
not  without — a  council  of  war  was  held. 
The  naturalist  produced  various  bits  of 
netting,  which  were  thus  put  to  use  : 
Simon  Tarr,  who  lay  in  the  middle,  con- 
structed a  small  wigwam  of  bent  twigs 
pulled  from  the  bedding,  and  over  it  threw 
a  canopy  of  netting,  into  which  he  in- 
serted his  head,  and  covered  the  flap  with 
his  blanket.  Ides  and  Lutterby,  each 
where  he  lay,  propped  up  the  wall  of  the 
tent  a  few  inches  by  crotched  sticks, 
closed  the  open  space  with  netting,  lay 
down  with  mouth  to  opening,  and  covered 
himself,  head  and  all,  with  blankets. 

It  was  difficult  to  sleep,  however.  The 
mosquitoes  returned  with  rage  to  the 
attack.  Tarr  had  expected  a  few  to  be 
enclosed  in  his  cranial  wigwam,  and  had 
planned  that  they  should  drink  themselves 
drunk,  and  then  allow  him  to  sleep ;  but 
as  one  and  another  dropped   off  his  face 


He  can  Bite. 


37 


i 


with  the  heavy  drone  of  satiety,  and  their 
places  were  taken  by  another  and  another, 
and  Tarr  would  open  his  eyes  in  despair 
at  the  sound  of  the  comini;  ruffians,  he 
could  see  by  the  dim  light  that  the  net- 
ting but  a  few  inches  from  him  was  black 
with  a  raging  hordo,  the  sound  of  whose 
fury  was  most  sleep-dispelling ;  and  more 
than  once,  in  the  vain  hope  of  closing  some 
crevice  which  they  must  be  entering,  he 
opened  new  locp-holes  for  their  approach. 
As  for  the  others,  the  warmth  of  the  air 
made  a  thick  blanket  over  the  head  very 
uncomfortable,  while  night  was  rendered 
horrid  by  close  proximity  to  the  trumpeting 
of  the  outside  mob,  infuriated  by  their 
inability  to  reach  the  entrenched,  and  cov- 
ering the  netting  so  thickly  as  fairly  to 
render  it  diffixult  to  get  oxygen  through 
it ;  nor  could  these  philosophers  wholly 
escape  the  light  artillery  of  the  flying 
squadrons  within.  When  the  welcome 
morning  came,  the  inside  walls  of  the 
tent  were  fairly  black  with  the  villains. 


38 


Indians  and  Mosquitoes. 


It.  I 


But  the  nights  were  not  long  ;  it  was 
twilight  still  until  near  midnight,  and  in 
less  than  an  hour  thereafter,  signs  of 
dawn  were  visible  in  the  cast.  The  even- 
ings were  not  infrequently  enlivened  by 
an  aurora,  which  usually  began  near  ten 
o'clock,  and  lasted  just  about  an  hour.  It 
resembled  a  very  long  and  irregular  flag, 
with  vertical  stripes,  formed  by  the  stream- 
ers continually  waving  about  in  a  most 
graceful  manner.  When  we  camped  with- 
out cover  on  the  open  shore,  it  was  a 
charming  thing  to  go  to  sleep  by. 

When  we  were  aroused  in  the  morning 
by  the  stentorian  sound  of  George's  call, 
we  never  had  time  to  do  more  than  pack 
our  personal  effects  before  they  were 
wanted  for  the  canoe  ;  none  whatever  for 
ablutions,  which  had  to  be  performed 
af*-erwards  from  the  canoe,  by  leaning  over 
the  boat's  side  at  the  men's  resting-spell, 
and  letting  the  water  dry  on  hands  and 
face,  —  leaving  a  more  thorough  wash 
until  landing  again. 


M 


f, 


BILLY  TATE. 


OGORGC  WHITEFORD. 

PADDLING. 


FKANCIS  SINCLAIR. 


* 


h 

=1 


L 


Paddling. 


39 


It  was  curious  with  what  regularity 
these  voyageurs  worked  ;  they  clipped 
their  paddles  exactly  once  a  second,  keep- 
ing time  much  of  the  way  to  the  quaint 
voyageur's  song  which  Narcisse  started, 
with  a  "reply  "from  Boozie,  and  an  occa- 
sional jerky  accompaniment  of  Billy  ;  on 
special  occasions  all  would  join.  At  the 
end  of  an  hour,  as  regularly  as  if  they 
kept  a  timepiece,  they  rested  for  a  few 
minutes.  Just  before  they  stopped,  they 
would  spurt.  Narcisse  would  cry,  **  r-r-r-r- 
r-r-r-r-r-r-ra !  ha ! "  and  then  they  would 
double  their  speed  for  thirty  or  forty 
strokes,  and  at  the  signal  from  the  boose- 
man,  ship  their  paddles.  Then  would  come 
the  inevitable  smoke.  The  pipe  would  be 
filled  with  a  mixture  of  tobacco  and  some 
weed,  or  the  inner  bark  of  the  willow, 
flint  and  steel  struck  against  the  fungus 
of  the  birch  ;  and  what  with  talking  and 
failures  to  ignite,  they  never  got,  nor  in- 
deed appeared  to  care  for,  more  than  three 
or  four  whiffs,  before  they  started  again. 


vl 


'4 


Si*  ( 


i  1 


40 


Indians  and  Mosquitoes. 


r 


George  meanwhile  was  never  idle :  he 
sponged  the  vater  from  the  canoe,  spat- 
tered in  by  the  paddles,  and  then  taking 
his  sweep-paddle  kept  the  canoe  still  in 
motion. 


'I\ 


THE  CAT   HEAD. 


L. 


IV. 


Paddling,  Penimicau,  and  Patience. 

S  we  paddled  nearly  fifty  miles 
the  day  before  we  reached  the 
Cat  Head,  it  is  provokin<^  to  be 
again  stopped  by  the  waves  an  hour  after 
breakfast,  and  landed  on  a  little  sand-spit, 
backed  by  a  marsh  full  of  mosquitoes, 
where  we  must  spend  the  remainder  of 
the  day  ;  nor  comforting  that  night  to 
hear  the  rain  pattering  on  our  tent,  be- 
tokening a  storm,  and  further  delay. 
What  is  our  pleasure  to  find  after  break- 
fast that  our  men  think  we  may  proceed ; 
that  the  traverse  from  Point  Wigwam, 
where  we  are,  to  the  nearest  island  in 
the  bay,  six  miles  distant,  is  decided  on. 
As  we  leave  the  little  harbor,  a  tremen- 
dous   splash    beneath    our    very    paddles 

4' 


I  I'      1 

If; 


42 


Pemmican  and  Patience, 


» 

I! 


;!  '; 


startles  us.  "  Nahma ! "  cry  the  men, 
"ah  ha,  Nahnia,"  and  we  are  introduced 
to  the  king  of  the  northern  waters. 

We  now  try  the  sail,  a  rude  affair 
enough, — a  square-sail  hauled  up  over 
a  crotched  pole  in  the  front  part  of  the 
canoe,  — but  by  means  of  which  we  make 
much  more  rapid  progress  than  is  our 
wont ;  yet  not  rapid  enough  for  George, 
who  sets  the  men  at  work  paddling  also 
with  all  their  might,  for  the  wind  is  in- 
creasing rapidly,  preventing  our  return 
before  we  go  a  mile,  and  necessitating  a 
run  of  several  miles  before  the  wind  ere 
we  can  gain  a  haven.  Billy,  always  a 
dismal  prophet,  begins  to  exclaim  at  the 
large  and  increasing  size  of  the  waves 
between  us  and  the  Sturgeon  Islands,  to 
which  we  are  heading,  asserting  in  short 
and  decided  phrase  that  we  can  never 
reach  them.  The  waves  grow  larger  and 
noisier,  and  we  reckon  with  anxiety  the 
space  that  still  remains.  We  speed  along 
as  never  before,  the  wave-crests  occasion- 


!\ 


11 


A  Dangerous  Run. 


43 


ally  dashing  over  our  gunwales,  the  canoe 
bending  and  twisting  as  each  wave  rushes 
angrily  from  stern  to  bow,  and  the  wind 
threatening  to  tear  the  mast  from  its 
frail  lashings. 

We  are  glad  enough  when  the  lee  of 
one  of  the  Sturgeon  Islands  is  reached 
at  the  end  of  an  hour, — the  most  peril- 
ous experienced.  Did  we  know  that  this 
island  was  to  be  our  prison  for  three  mis- 
erable days,  we  should  have  taken  our 
arrival  with  less  equanimity !  Hoping 
later  in  the  day  to  be  able  to  push  for- 
ward, our  canoe  is  not  at  first  unloaded, 
but  merely  kept  next  the  shore  by  small 
trees  falling  from  the  beach  across  the 
bow  and  stern.  Landing  is  made  in  the 
pelting  rain ;  and  the  tent-poles  being  at 
the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  we  three  philoso- 
phers solace  ourselves  with  one  umbrella 
and  one  rubber  blanket  between  us,  until 
the  men  have  made  a  sort  of  wigwam  of 
poles,  bent,  twisted,  and  bound  together, 
and   nn    the   windward-side   have    thrown 


! 


44 


Pemmican  and  Patience. 


1 1 

111': 


over  it  the  tent-cover ;  to  this,  and  the 
comfort  of  a  roaring  fire  in  front,  we  then 
retreat,  and  bemoan  our  fate.  The  days 
are  gliding  swiftly  by.  Ten  have  passed 
since  leaving  Fort  Garry.  Less  than  ten 
remain  to  the  day  of  the  eclipse,  after  we 
are  at  last  freed  from  our  prison ;  and  half 
the  journey  is  not  made.  It  is  true  that 
winds  will  not  detain  us  on  the  river,  but 
there  we  will  have  to  contend  with  the 
unfailing  current. 

The  island  which  affords  the  philoso- 
phers at  once  a  shelter  and  a  prison  is 
about  a  foot  above  the  level  of-  the  lake, 
and  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  long 
by  half  as  wide :  so  at  least  we  estimate  it, 
but  with  all  our  explorations,  we  are  un- 
able to  penetrate  to  either  extremity.  It 
is  made  up  of  a  bulrush  muskeg,  willow 
and  alder  chapparal,  sand,  and  bowlders. 
We  explore  nearly  half  an  acre  of  it  with 
limited  success,  and  have  for  an  outlook 
fragments  of  similar  islands  of  equal 
interest  in  the  near  distance. 


\k    \ 


L 


Loading  the  Canoe. 


41 


Wfj  are  glad  to  be  called  at  three  o'clock 
on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  by  the 
ever  watchful  George,  and  though  the 
waves  are  still  high,  and  the  traverse 
ahead  a  long  one,  glad  enough  to  venture 
it.  The  men  hastily  arouse  themselves, 
light  their  pipes,  take  two  or  three  whiffs, 
and  then,  laying  hold  of  the  canoe  with 
many  interjections  and  "ughs,"  they  turn  it 
over,  and,  three  men  on  each  side,  carry 
it,  stern  foremost,  into  the  water,  bringing 
it  around  as  the  stern  floats,  so  that  it  lies 
broadside  in  water  up  to  the  men's  knees. 
Steersman  and  bov/sman  then  hold  each 
his  end,  steadying  the  canoe,  and  directing 
the  loading.  Narcisse  jumps  in,  and  stows 
away,  with  the  two  Georges'  help,  the 
boxes  and  bags  which  the  others  bring, 
working  always  on  the  run.  An  open 
framework  is  placed  on  the  floor  in  the 
middle,  and  on  it  oil-cloth,  tent-bag,  and 
blankets  are  thrown  for  the  philosophers' 
seats ;  the  men  sit  on  narrow  slats  slung 
by   thongs   about    six    inches    below  the 


m  ; 


46 


Pemmican  and  Patience. 


i  ii 


l.\\ 


thwarts.  The  baggage  all  in,  the  philoso- 
phers are  carried  out  in  the  same  way,  the 
men  get  in,  and  the  canoe  is  off. 

After  rounding  Limestone  Point,  and 
crossing  Portage  Bay,  we  land  on  a  little 
island  for  breakfast,  which  the  men  by 
this  time  have  surely  earned.  Breakfast, 
dinner,  and  supper  are  all  one  and  the 
same  thing.  Pemmican,  bannocks  (simple 
flour,  water,  and  salt),  and  hard  biscuit  are 
the  staples,  washed  down  with  tea.  Pota- 
toes long  since  gave  out,  and  the  ham 
and  salt  beef  are  so  strong  that  the  salt- 
less  pemmican  is  soon  preferred.  This, 
too,  is  the  genuine  article,  just  as  put  up 
on  the  plains,  —  now  no  longer  to  be  had, 
—  aud  a  vastly  different  thing  from  the 
material  of  that  name  put  up  in  England 
for  Arctic  travellers. 

The  meat,  cut  in  long  flakes  from  the 
warm  carcass  of  the  buffalo,  and  dried  in 
the  sun,  is  afterwards  beaten  into  shreds 
by  flails  upon  a  floor  of  buffalo-hide  on 
the  open  prairie  ;   the  hide  is  then  sewn 


i     » 


<i 


The  Gciminc  Pcnimican, 


47 


into  a  bag,  the  meat  jammed  in,  the  top 
sewed  up,  all  but  one  corner,  into  which 
more  meat  is  crowded  ;  and  then  the  fat, 
which  has  meanwhile  been  tried,  is  poured 
in  scalding  hot,  filling  every  crevice.  A 
species  of  cranberry  is  often  added  with 
the  meat.  The  whole  forms  a  bolster- 
shaped  bag,  as  solid  and  as  heavy  as  stone ; 
and  in  this  condition  it  remains,  perhaps 
for  years,  until  eaten.  Each  bag  weighs 
from  a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds.  One  who  has  tried  it  will  not 
wonder  that  it  was  once  used,  in  the  tur- 
moils of  the  contests  between  the  North- 
west and  Hudson  Bay  Companies,  to  form 
a  redoubt,  armed  with  two  swivel  guns. 

We  have  two  ways  of  preparing  this, — 
one  called  "rub-a-boo,"  when  it  is  boiled 
in  a  great  deal  of  water,  and  makes  a  soup  ; 
the  other  more  favorite  dish  is  "rousseau," 
when  it  is  thrown  into  the  frying-pan,  fried 
in  its  own  fat,  with  the  addition,  perhaps, 
of  a  little  salt  pork,  and  mixed  with  a 
small  amount  of   flour  or  broken  biscuit. 


If 


4\ 


h    (I 


I 


III 

ft  ,   ! 


48 


Pemmiciiii  iind  Patience, 


But  sometimes,  when  our  philosophers 
are  hard  put  to  it.  and  forced  to  take  their 
meal  i^:  the  canoe,  the  pemmican  is  eaten 
raw,  chopped  out  of  the  bag  with  a  hatchet, 
and  accompunied  simply  by  the  biscuit, 
which  has  received  tho  soubriquet  of  "  Red- 
river  granite."  These  wonderful  objects, 
as  large  as  sea-biscuit,  are  at  least  three- 
quarters  of  an  inch  in  thickness,  and 
against  them  the  naturalist's  geological 
hammer  is  always  brought  into  requisition. 
But  the  '*  infidel  dish,"  as  we  termed 
rousseau,  is  by  comparison  with  the  others 
palatable,  though  it  is  even  then  impossi- 
ble to  so  disguise  it  as  to  avoid  the  sug- 
gestion of  tallow  candles;  and  this  and 
the  leathery,  or  India-rubbery,  structure 
of  the  meat  are  its  chief  dI.;qualifications. 
But  even  rousseau  may  loose  its  charms 
when  taken  as  a  steady  diet  three  times  a 
day  for  weeks ;  especially  when  it  is  served 
in  the  frying-pan,  ar.d,  breakfast  or  diiner 
over,  one  sees  the  remnants  with  the  beef 
or  pork  all  hustled  together  into  the  boil- 


fc"'httiaj««iiirirtiil»HW! 


The  Way  it  is  Served. 


49 


ing-kettle ;  the  biscuit,  broken  bannocks, 
and  unwashed  cups  placed  in  the  bread- 
bag  ;  the  plates,  knives,  and  forks  tossed 
into  the  meat-dish  ;  and  all,  combined  in 
the  ample  folds  of  an  old  bit  of  gunny- 
cloth  which  has  served  daily  at  once  as 
dishcloth  and  tablecloth,  thrown  into  the 
canoe  to  rest  until  the  next  meal,  when  at 
last  Billy  finds  time  to  wash  the  dishes,  — 
the  tablecloth,  never. 

We  are  able,  indeed,  to  vary  our  diet  a 
little  now  and  then,  —  but  they  are  rare 
occasions,  —  by  barter  with  the  Indians 
for  fish,  which  they  catch  in  the  streams 
(not  in  the  lake),  by  shooting  a  stray  duck, 
goose,  or  gull  (nothing  coming  amiss),  or 

—  shall  we  tell  it  to  civilized  ears?  —  by 
the  eggs  of  sea-fowl,  picked  up  on  the 
sandy  islands,  where  they  can  be  found  in 
every  stage  of  incubation.  Our  first  ex- 
perience of  this  was  only  a  few  days  out, 

—  the  day  we  made  the  traverse  from  the 
west  to  the  east  coast.  We  passed  an 
island  where   the  men  dashed  ashore  to 


♦  . 


It 


I, 


Ri  \ 


50 


Pemmkau  and  Patience. 


get  a  gull  they  had  shot,  and  brought  it 
back  with  several  dozen  eggs  besides. 
The  gull  measured  fifty-six  inches  in 
spread  of  wings,  and  the  eggs  were  as  big 
as  turkeys'.  We  ordered  ham  and  eggs 
that  night,  but,  when  the  meal  was  served, 
discovered  that  Billy  had  fried  the  ham 
indeed,  but  boiled  the  eggs.  They  were 
"fresh,"  however,  Billy  declared;  for  had 
he  not  tested  them  by  a  plunge  in  water.'' 
Not  one,  however,  but  had  been  under  the 
mother  for  a  week,  and  some  were  on 
the  point  of  hatching.  We  were  a  little 
hesitant  at  first,  but  four  or  five  days  of 
pemmican  gave  us  less  scruple ;  and,  the 
Rubicon  once  crossed,  incipient  feathers 
no  longer  alarm  us,  and  half-hatched  gulls* 
and  terns'  eggs  are  an  eagerly  sought  diet. 
We  are  indeed  fast  lapsing  into  savagery. 

We  have  now  a  long  stretch  of  tame 
coast  before  us,  —  low-lying  forest  land  of 
tamarack  and  spruce,  with  occasional  pop- 
lars and  willows,  edged  by  a  muskeg,  and 
that    by   a    sand    beach    little    indented. 


i^-_ 


Ifiiiian  Barter. 


51 


Here  and  there  horizontal  layers  of  lime- 
stone crop  out  a  few  feet  only  above  the 
water ;  and  now  and  then  the  marshes 
appear  to  overflow,  as  some  small  stream 
seeks  a  dozen  outlets  for  its  murky  flood. 
Along  this  uninteresting  shore  we  fortu- 
nately make  steady  progress.  We  are  glad 
enough,  however,  as  toward  nightfall  we 
espy  some  Indian  lodges,  to  stop  and  ex- 
change, with  equal  relish  on  both  sides, 
pemmican  and  tobacco  for  fresh  fish  and 
ducks.  As  usual,  the  women  come  out  to 
the  canoe  for  the  barter,  wading  nearly  to 
their  waists,  regardless  of  their  clothing, 
and  among  them  a  very  pretty  maiden  of 
about  seventeen  with  whom  our  boys  pass 
many  a  merry  word  ;  while  the  men  squat 
on  the  beach,  speechless,  smoking,  their 
faces  half  hidden  behind  their  knees. 
This  little  diversion  gives  our  boys  new 
spirit ;  and  after  paddling  briskly  twelve 
miles  farther,  making  in  all  about  sixty 
miles  this  day,  we  come  to  a  cosey  little 
harbor  and  a  most  welcome  fish  supper. 


>  •-:••- 


l>  > 


M 


I' 


f 


52 


Pemmican  and  Patience, 


The  following  night  proves  the  cold- 
est we  have  experienced,  the  thermometer 
falling  to  forty-four  degrees  (July  lo-ii). 
The  men  awake  stiff  with  their  long  day's 
pull  and  the  chilly  air,  and  it  is  sunrise 
or  nearly  four  o'clock  before  we  are  off,  — 
an  unwonted  late  hour  for  an  auspicious 
day.  But  after  a  time,  when  at  the  end 
of  our  long  uniform  coast  line  we  have 
begun  to  turn  toward  the  east,  to  round 
Cape  Kitchinashi,  alias  "Missineo,"  the 
"Big  Point,"  or  "Detour,"  which  stretches 
ten  miles  or  more  abruptly  into  the  lake, 
the  wind  freshens,  and  we  are  forced  to 
the  lee  of  one  of  the  Gull  Islands,  which 
we  reach  by  dinner-time  and  cannot  leave 
until  the  next  morning,  finding  a  bit  of 
grass-land  for  our  bed,  but  scarcely  a  stick 
of  wood  for  a  fire. 

The  next  day  we  paddle  from  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  supper-time, 
rounding  the  cape  and  camping  perhaps 
ten  miles  north  of  where  we  started  ;  the 
wind  being  southerly  and  freshening  with 


,'f 


,,5S,-j*i»- 


> 


r. 


m 

! 


^ 
^ 


Tracking. 


53 


the  day,  we  are  fortunate  in  getting 
around  the  point  to  its  northern  lee  shore 
in  season  :  an  hour  later  might  have  de- 
tained us  another  day. 

Along  this  smooth  coast  we  try  for  the 
first  time  a  new  style  of  progression, — 
tracking.  A  long  light  line  is  attached 
to  the  canoe  near  the  bow,  while  to  the 
other  end  three  men  upon  the  beach 
fasten  their  tracking  or  portage  straps, 
—  long  pieces  of  rawhide,  broad  in  the 
middle  and  ending  in  thongs;  the  broad 
part  is  passed  over  the  shculder,  the  ends 
fastened  to  the  rope,  and  thus  harnessed, 
the  men  drag  our  canoe  at  a  dog-trot, 
while  George  with  his  sweep-paddle  keeps 
the  bow  from  shore,  and  Boozie  has  an  eye 
out  for  rocks.  The  water  in  this  portion 
of  Lake  Winnipeg  is  much  clearer  ;  and 
we  judge  its  name,  "dirty  water,"  was 
given  it  by  frequenters  of  the  southern 
portion.  The  same  difference  was  noted 
on  the  return  voyage. 

Billy  announces  "no  more  sugar;"  even 


f 


r 


:;l 


'1  i 


!    • 


I 


54 


Pemmican  ami  Patience. 


the  flour  is  getting  low.  The  only  article 
of  food  of  which  there  appears  to  be  an 
abundance  is  pemmican,  and  of  this  we 
have  already  cached  a  bag  on  the  road, 
and  now  make  a  second  cache. 

We  comfort  ourselves,  however,  by  a 
sight  of  the  shores  about  and  beyond 
the  entrance  to  the  Saskatchewan,  which 
only  a  northerly  or  easterly  storm  can 
now  prevent  our  reaching  on  the  morrow. 
Still,  we  confess  to  much  uneasiness. 
But  five  days  remain  to  the  eclipse,  and 
George  says,  and  all  his  men  corroborate 
him,  that  five  days  is  the  least  time  in 
which  the  journey  up  the  river  can  be 
made.  Are  vve  to  miss  it  by  the  pal- 
try distance  that  the  eye  can  traverse.^ 
Cumberland  House,  a  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany's post,  is  our  destination,  and  is  most 
favorably  situated  in  the  y  centre  of 
the  belt  of  total  eclipse  'Ut  the  river 
below  it  runs  in  a  very  oblique  course 
through  the  belt,  so  that  if  we  can  only 
reach  the  Pas,  a  mission-station  some  dis- 


Our  Destination, 


55 


tance  farther  down  the  river,  we  shall  still 
gain  the  desired  belt,  though  only  its  edge, 
where  the  period  of  totality  will  be  very 
brief.  But  we  say  nothing  of  this  to  our 
men. 


THE  ECLIPSE   BELT. 


il 


it ' 


f 

it 


V. 

Portaging,  Poling,  and  Promises. 

OWARDS  noon  the  next  day  we 
cross  the  mouth  of  the  Saskatche- 
wan, and  land  on  the  northern 
shore  for  dinner  and  to  prepare  poles  of 
spruce  for  river  use.  Each  having  peeled 
and  fashioned  his  to  his  taste,  we  start  up 
the  river ;  not,  however,  until  we  have  had 
our  first  taste  of  Saskatchewan  mosqui- 
toes, or,  rather,  they  of  us.  Hitherto  I 
have  merely  mentioned  mosquitoes  ;  but 
they  are  the  nightly  torment  of  our  lives, 
necessitating  the  sleep  we  afterward  daily 
catch  in  the  canoe  before  breakfast.  But 
those  had  been  semi-civilized  mosquitoes. 
Now  we  have  to  deal  with  veritable  bar- 
barians, knowing  rest  nor  night  nor  day, 
—  the  yellow  jackets  of  Culex  land,  illim- 
56 


The  Real  Mosquito.  57 

itable  in  numbers,  ubiquitous,  insatiable, 
indomitable,  hot-tongued,  with  all  the  spirit 
of  the  furies ! 

The  current  is  swift,  and  we  hug  the 
shore  closely  to  avoid  the  worst,  but  on 
rounding  points,  the  paddles  can  make  no 
headway  against  the  current,  and  the  men 
seize  their  poles,  stand  erect,  and  plunge 
them  to  the  bottom;  then  with  simul- 
taneous shouts  and  yells,  they  work  as 
one  i.:an,  poling  the  canoe  forward  till  the 
water  spurts  over  the  bows.  By  and  by 
we  reach  quieter  water,  where  the  paddles 
are  resumed ;  and  so  on  until  we  gain  a 
suitable  spot,  when  we  all  land,  and  the 
men  track  the  boat  up  to  the  foot  of  the 
Grand  Falls,  wLile  we  philosophers  foot 
it  through  the  forest  on  the  edge  of  the 
bank.  An  Indian  village  stands  at  the 
landing-place,  and  our  approach  is  her- 
alded by  a  mighty  outcry  from  our  dis- 
tant canine  friends.  Of  all  dogs,  this 
Indian  breed  is  the  most  noisy  and  the 
most  cowardly. 


li 


i 


I'' 


|.  I 


Up  the  River. 

We  do  not  stay  here  long.  The  place 
is  not  attractive ;  for  though  canoes  are 
in  manufacture,  and  we  should  like  to 
examine  them  in  various  stages,  the  odor 
of  putrid  sturgeon  fills  the  whole  atmos- 
phere. Now  and  then  the  path  through 
the  woods  oprns  and  gives  us  n*  in'  ;er»t 
views  of  the  rushing,  surging  tor/  ent .  It 
seems  almost  impossible  that  our  men  caii 
haul  the  canoe  up  such  a  place,  and 
indeed  they  have  a  hard  time  of  it. 

We  come  across  another  village,  where 
the  chief,  with  no  covering  but  a  shirt, 
comes  forward  to  salute  us,  while  the 
small  boy  (evidently  bred  in  this  region 
for  that  purpose)  drives  off  the  snarling 
dogs  with  cuffs  and  stones.  Naked, 
greasy-looking  children,  pretty  maidens, 
and  fat  old  squaws  sit  around,  and  gaze 
at  us  as  we  file  by,  filled  most  with  won- 
derment at  our  naturalist's  fly-net.  We 
overtake  a  squaw  with  papoose  on  back, 
and  walk  leisurely  to  inspect  from  behind 
the  bundle  with  the  lollins:  head 


WILL  PORTAGE  FOR  PEMMICAN. 


' 


( 


) 


1     ft 


If 


1 


!!E!RBha. 


Por takers  at  Work. 


59 


At  the  end  of  a  walk  of  two  or  three 
miles,  we  find  ourselves  at  the  foot  of  the 
portage,  our  men  already  in  advance  of 
us,  unloading  the  canoe.  They  had  been 
obliged  to  take  out  j)art  of  the  load  below, 
and  were  now  going  back  fur  it,  securing 
the  aid  of  an  Indian  for  the  hard  work, 
and  paying  him  in  pemmican,  —  the  great 
medium  of  exchange  and  sale  in  this  re- 
gion, where  a  gold  piece  would  be  as  much 
out  of  place  as  in  the  heart  of  Africa. 

On  their  return  every  thing  is  carried 
up  the  steep  bank,  and  the  canoe,  perched 
upside  down  on  the  shoulders  of  the  six 
men,  makes  its  way  through  the  wilder- 
ness to  a  point  above  the  fiercest  rapids. 
Here  they  leave  it,  and  on  their  return 
we  camp  for  the  night.  Early  the  next 
morning  the  portage  of  the  goods  begins, 
requiring  three  trips  in  all.  The  same 
raw-hide  is  used  as  in  tracking,  the  thongs 
being  fastened  around  the  two  ends  of 
some  box  or  bag,  and  so  adjusted  that 
the  load  falls  against  the  shoulder-blades. 


,  ' 


[)\ 


;  ( 


1*1 


'Ml 


i  ■:*> 


I '11 


.';       ■    ! 


i     1 


mr  ^ 


60 


up  the  River. 


when  the  broad,  central  flat  passes  over  the 
forehead.  Upon  this  are  piled  such  other 
articles  as  can  be  loosely  adjusted  without 
danger  of  falling,  generally  weighted  by  a 
sack  half  resting  on  the  head,  the  whole 
load  amounting  to  from  a  hundred  to  a 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  With  this  they 
start  over  the  road  at  a  dog-trot,  and  do 
not  stop  an  instant  on  the  way,  —  a  full 
mile,  —  coming  back  as  soon  as  unloaded 
for  another  carry.  It  takes  two  hours  to 
accomplish  every  thing,  and  all  is  done 
before  breakfast. 

Tarr  and  Ides  go  over  with  the  first 
load,  including  all  the  astronomical  instru- 
ments, while  Lutterby  stands  guard  at  the 
starting-point,  where  a  fresh  breeze  from 
the  river  drives  the  mosquitoes  into  the 
woods.  The  opposite  is  the  case  at  the 
other  end  of  the  line,  and  the  poor  astron- 
omers are  obliged  to  spend  their  time 
racing  up  and  down  the  portage-beach  to 
keep  the  enemy  at  bay. 

After  a  hurried  breakfast  on  our  part 


i  ' 


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r' 


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I 

1  'f 

r 

lii 

i          '  ■     ■ 

'    1  * 

;■    )  • 

1 

Poling  in  the  Rapids, 


6i 


(and  that  of  the  mosquitoes),  we  launch 
again  in  the  still  angry  waters.  Poling 
and  paddlinJ3  by  turns,  we  creep  steadily 
up  the  river,  keeping  so  close  to  the  shore 
that  the  branches  of  the  trees  often  lash 
our  faces.  Now  and  then  a  pole  slips 
upon  a  rock  beneath,  and  brings  the  poler 
to  his  back,  from  which  he  springs  with 
an  angry  cry,  and  recovers  his  hold.  It 
is  a  wild  scene.  The  men  yell  like  frantic 
demons,  —  all  but  quiet  Francis,  who 
works  none  the  less  mightily,  and  George 
the  guide,  on  whom  depends  chiefly  the 
course  the  boat  shall  take,  plunging  his 
pole  now  on  this  side,  and  now  on  that, 
shouting  meanwhile  his  orders  to  his  men. 
Francis  splits  and  nearly  breaks  his  pole 
at  a  most  critical  point,  where  the  force 
of  the  current  sends  the  water  spurting 
up  the  flanks  of  the  frail  bark. 

Thus  we  make  our  way  for  three  or 
four  miles,  in  as  many  hours,  until  we 
come  to  a  point  where  the  water  surging 
around  a  projecting  point  allows  no  pas- 


1 


\ 


$i 


|i'  I 


62 


Up  the  River. 


sage,  and  we  are  obliged  to  paddle  across 
the  broad  river  in  a  furious  manner,  only 
to  bring  up  on  the  opposite  shore  at  a 
point  far  down  the  stream.  Then  the 
alternate  poling  and  paddling  is  renewed 
on  that  side,  till  we  reach  a  similar  diffi- 
culty around  a  jutting  rock,  and  here 
another  portage  becomes  necessary. 

To  add  to  our  delights,  a  heavy  rain 
comes  on.  We  disembark  in  a  damp,  boggy 
wood  swarming  with  mosquitoes.  We  are 
all  wet  to  the  skin,  so  that  it  is  hard  to 
make  a  fire.  Some  dried  grass  is  at  last 
found  in  the  protection  of  a  hollow  tree, 
rolled  into  a  ball,  a  bit  of  punk  from  the 
same  tree  lighted  by  flint  and  steel,  and 
placed  in  the  centre  of  the  ball ;  this  is 
then  swung  in  half-open  hands  until  a 
flame  bursts  out,  which  is  coaxed  with 
birch -bark  and  small  wood,  till  a  fire 
makes  things  more  cheerful ;  and  dinner 
of  sturgeon  in  the  open  air  renders  the 
rain  less  obnoxious. 

Portaging  the  baggage  forty  rods,  and 


A  Little  Moist, 

warping  the  empty  canoe  around  the 
rock,  consume  much  time ;  and  we  are 
glad  enough  to  start  again.  To  help 
matters,  while  the  men  work  the  canoe 
forward  in  the  swift  current,  we  philoso- 
phers take  to  our  feet,  making  our  \/ay 
(without  a  path)  over  fallen  trees  and 
through  tangle  and  marsh  filled  with  tall 
grass  saturated  with  rain.  We  are  finally 
carried  to  the  canoe  from  a  willowy  mus- 
keg, where,  in  a  generally  damp  condition, 
we  are  standing  in  a  foot  of  water.  An 
hour's  more  poling  brings  the  canoe  to 
where  the  river  flows  through  many  chan- 
nels. One  and  another  of  these  are 
crossed,  and  camp  made  ac  last  on  an 
island  near  the  upper  shore. 

The  next  morning  we  paddle  over  Cross 
Lake,  —an  expansion  of  the  river, — and 
breakfast  on  an  island  in  the  narrows  be- 
tween that  and  Cedar  Lake.  In  this  we 
are  joined  by  a  half-breed  in  charge  of 
Cedar-lake  House,  —  a  small  trading-post 
of  the    Hudson  Bay  Company  which  we 


'II 

L I 


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i 

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5   \ 

' 

, 

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i 

i 
<  1 

1 

f 


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I 


64 


up  the  River. 


can  see  on  the  opposite  shore.  He  con- 
sents to  take  one  of  our  naturalist's  cans, 
and  fill  it  with  various  articles  against  our 
return,  for  which  the  men,  too,  are  grate- 
ful, as  it  lightens  their  load  again.  Mr. 
John  De  Leon  did  not  know  what  day  it 
was.  Well,  what  need,  hundreds  of  miles 
from  his  nearest  civilized  neighbors,  and 
only  those  in  his  own  cabin  to  speak  to  ? 
Our  men,  however,  had  kept  tally  by  dis- 
pensing with  bannocks  on  Sundays,  con- 
sidering their  preparation  as  unnecessary 
cooking;  and  so  we  are  able  to  lell  him 
that  this  is  no  bannock  day.  Alas!  the 
time  draws  near  when  all  the  days  arc 
Sundays  ;  —  but  I  anticipate. 

After  breakfast  we  enter  on  Cedar  Lake, 
—  an  immense  expansion  of  the  river  where 
no  current  is  perceptible,  —  and  camp  at 
nightfall  on  an  island  n'^ar  its  upper  end. 
Here  we  have  a  sericus  talk  with  George, 
explaining  how  far  we  have  come,  and  for 
what  purpose,  and  the  weakening  chances 
of   our  reaching  even  the  Pas,  —  to  such 


"^ 


George's  Promise. 


65 


good  effect  that  he  promises  to  lose  no 
moment  of  time.  What  is  our  chagrin, 
on  awakening  in  the  morning,  to  find  the 
wind  and  waves  so  high  on  this  pickaninny 
lake,  that  the  single  remaining  traverse 
cannot  be  undertaken.  However,  by  sun- 
rise the  wind  begins  to  die  down  ;  and  by 
half-past  eight  we  launch  again,  and  dine 
at  the  point  where  the  current  again 
meets  us. 

Here  George  begins  indeed  to  redeem 
his  promise,  for  not  only  do  the  men  pad- 
dle steadily  all  this  day,  stopping  only  for 
meals,  but  also  all  the  night  long  and  the 
following  day,  stopping  indeed  only  when, 
just  at  dusk  on  the  night  before  the 
eclipse,  our  astronomers  declare  that  we 
have  reached  the  belt  of  totality,  and  at  a 
fortunate  bend  in  the  river,  opposing  the 
sunrise,  find  ourselves  confronted  by  the 
first  spot  of  ground  a  foot  above  the  water 
which  we  have  seen  for  twenty-four  hours. 
Indeed,  in  all  this  day,  we  are  not  able  to 
land  to  cook  a  meal,  but  avail  ourselves 


"V*^ 


i  1 


tii'? 


I 


i    • 


i  il 


! 


\  I  1 


1  ' 

1 

,i             ''  ' 

5    ' ' 

66 


Up  the  River. 


of  such  snags  at  the  river's  brink  as  enable 
us  to  build  a  fire  among  the  half-submerged 
branches  out  of  a  spare  paddle  or  two,  or 
satisfy  our  hunger  with  raw  pemmican  ard 
Red-river  granite. 

It  was  curious  to  watch  the  effect  of  this 
hard  pull  upon  the  men  the  last  ten  hours. 
Poor  Boozie  fell  a> '  eep  about  every  half 
hour,  but  he  managed  to  keep  his  seat  and 
his  grasp  of  the  paddle  until  aroused  by 
the  shouts  and. gibes  of  those  who  quickly 
saw  the  faltering  stroke  that  should  guide 
their  mo  <.ments.  Francis  and  Billy  evi- 
dently felt  that  "  tired  Nature's  sweet  re- 
storer "  wished  to  get  the  upper  hand,  but 
they  fought  her  with  stoical  indifference. 
Poor  John  was  in  sad  plight  for  the  entire 
journey  had  told  upon  him,  reducing  his 
plump  flesh  to  gauntness ;  and  now  he  was 
a  picture  of  woe,  as  he  bravely  strove  to 
do  his  part.  At  every  stroke  of  the  paddle 
his  head  rolled  to  one  side  or  the  other 
as  if  some  sympathetic  connection  existed 
between  his  head  and  his  arms.     Narcisse 


How  the  Men  stood  it. 


67 


put  a  bold  face  on  it  by  rallying  John, 
shouting  at  Boozie  as  he  slaclcened  pace, 
and  laughing  at  things  in  general.  And 
George,  Captain  George,  how  did  he 
stand  it  ?  Did  his  broad  paddle  cease  to 
ply  the  water  continuously,  his  that  did 
not  gauge  its  movement  by  the  others? 
Did  he  stop  at  unnecessarily  frequent 
intervals  to  sop  an  imaginary  puddle  in 
the  canoe,  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the 
stroke  ?  Not  he.  Careful  and  prolonged 
search  at  George's  countenance  failed  to 
disclose  the  slightest  difference  in  action 
or  in  expression  from  what  was  custom- 
ary. The  eye  was  clear,  bright,  and 
open  ;  the  same  pleasant  smile,  the  same 
quiet  manner,  greeted  one ;  the  paddle 
moved  like  the  pendulum  of  a  clock. 
Not  the  slightest  trace  of  weariness 
could  be  detected.  At  a  word  from  us, 
George  would  have  kept  on  a  second 
night  to  enable  us  to  reach  the  Pas ; 
but  the  discovery  of  this  littje  bank 
opposite  a  stream  from  Moose    Lake  de- 


1  » I 


»i 


m 


up  the  River. 


termined  us  to  test  their  powers  no 
longer,  for  the  men's  strength  would 
be  needed  for  our  further  preparations, 
and  the  eclipse  was  to  commence  soon 
after  sunrise. 


I    ; 


A   SAl'LTEAUX   INUiAN. 


m 


I 


VI. 


Eclipse  Observations  tinder  Difficulties,  — 
/4n  Oasis, 


A 


T  is  a  most  unpromising  spot  where 
we  land  in  the  rain.  Only  a  little 
ridge  of  boggy  ground,  into  which 
one  sinkr  nearly  to  the  level  of  the  river 
at  every  step,  separates  the  river  from  the 
marsh:  The  canoe  is  brought  alongside, 
and  the  instruments  and  such  provisions 
as  are  needed  taken  out.  The  men  ar- 
range a  wigwam  in  the  marsh,  and  throw 
over  it  the  tent-cover,  strewing  boughs 
upon  the  floor,  and  treading  them  down 
until  something  like  solidity  is  gained,  and 
then  heap  upon  them  some  two  or  three 
feet  of  fir.  A  thick  growth  of  poplar  lines 
the  stream.     Supper  over,  by  the  light  of 

the  fire  the  men  clear  away  the  smaller 

69 


1 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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HiotQgraphic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


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70 


Eclipse  and  Rest. 


trees,  using  them  to  make  a  corduroy  to 
keep  above  the  water.  The  trunks  of  four 
of  the  larger  are  made  into  huge  stakes, 
which  are  driven  very  close  together  well 
into  the  ground,  and  a  large  box  contain- 
ing one  of  the  naturalist's  heavy  cans 
of  alcohol  is  placed  upon  it  as  a  stand 
for  the  larger  three-inch  telescope.  A 
crotched  tree,  properly  trimmed,  serves 
as  the  support  for  the  smaller  one,  while 
boxes  for  seats  are  placed  at  convenient 
spots. 

Our  philosophers  are  up  early  the  next 
morning  despite  the  heavy  shower  which 
precedes  the  dawn,  and  which  makes  it 
seem  as  though  all  their  labor  had  been 
thrown  away.  The  crucial  time  approach- 
ing, they  explain  more  fully  to  the  men 
what  is  about  to  transpire,  and  enjoin 
complete  silence.  Alas  !  to  little  purpose. 
Though  the  clouds  are  unsteady,  they  will 
not  part ;  the  eclipse  increases ;  the  total- 
ity approaches.  No  sound  is  heard  but 
the  tap  of  the  screw-driver  on  the  alcohol 


1 


m 

k 
I 


I 


/    'i 


' 


IVhat  a  Success  ! 


7t 


box,  as  the  seated  natuBalist  beats  the 
seconds  from  the  chronometer  in  his  hand, 
and  at  the  beginning  of  each  new  minute 
enforces  it  by  an  audible  "  one !  two ! 
three!  four!  five!"  The  gloom  deepens 
and  deepens,  and  then  becomes  so  in- 
tense that  the  chronometer  is  read  with 
difficulty,  when  suddenly,  at  eight  seconds 
and  fifteen  minutes  after  eight,  a  change 
occurs,  and  we  know  the  totality  is  past. 
Soon  thereafter  the  clouds  lift,  and  permit 
the  remaining  phenomena  to  be  observed 
and  timed  ;  and  when,  an  hour  later,  all  is 
over,  we  turn  to  breakfast. 

This,  then,  is  our  success.  Three  thou- 
sand miles  of  constant  travel  occupying 
five  weeks,  to  reach  by  heroic  endeavor 
the  outer  edge  of  the  belt  of  totality  ;  to 
sit  in  a  marsh,  and  view  the  eclipse 
through  the  clouds ! 

Altitude  and  meridian  observations 
being  taken,  the  instruments  are  packed, 
and  as  the  river  is  still  rising  (it  turns  out 
that    it   is   higher  than  for  years),  and  is 


I! 


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72 


Eclipse  and  Rest. 


now  overflowing  the  very  ground  on  which 
we  stand,  we  start  as  speedily  as  possible, 
with  the  intention  of  reaching  the  Pas, 
and  a  day's  rest  for  the  men.  After  pad- 
dling less  by  six  miles  than  we  had  counted 
on,  we  come  at  sunset,  on  rounding  a 
point,  into  sudden  view  of  a  neat  little 
church  and  a  cluster  of  houses  on  the  first 
solid  ground  we  have  seen  for  three  days. 

We  are  instantly  seen,  and  receive  an 
immediate  and  cordial  welcome,  with  pro- 
fuse offers  of  hospitality  on  the  part  of  the 
lonely  Christian  man  who  here  carries  on 
his  work.  But  bemired  as  we  are,  we  pre- 
fer our  own  lodgings  ;  our  camp  is  soon 
made  in  the  open  field,  where  a  fire  from 
the  good  parson's  ample  wood-pile  soon 
dries  us  off. 

This  little  settlement  consists,  first,  of 
a  church  and  schoolhouse  in  a  palisaded 
enclosure,  which  also  includes  a  graveyard 
with  palisaded  graves  (to  keep  off  wolves) ; 
then  of  the  parsonage,  and  Fort  Defiance, 
a  log  hut  roofed  with  bark  held  in  place 


The  Pas. 


73 


by  stones,  and  which  serves  as  a  Hudson 
Bay  trading  -  store,  with  a  few  Indian 
lodges,  and,  on  the  two  sides  of  the  river, 
twenty  or  thirty  rude  cabins.  Here  we 
spend  a  couple  of  days  very  pleasantly  with 
the  parson  and  his  family,  attending  service 
wholly  in  the  Cree  language,  and  enjoying 
this  little  oasis  of  civilization  to  the  full. 

At  the  service  was  a  motley  gathering 
in  every  style  of  dress  and  age,  even  down 
to  papooses  strapped  on  their  mother's 
backs,  or  leaning  in  cradle-boards  against 
the  walls.  Some  of  the  Indians  sat  on 
the  benches  which  ranged  along  the  walls, 
while  others  preferred  squatting  on  the 
open  floor. 

How  we  enjoyed  civilized  meals  again 
(what  slaves  we  are  to  the  stomach !)  and 
how  we  rejoiced  at  the  sight  of  growing 
barley  and  potato  -  patches,  need  not  be 
told.  We  were  doubtless  equally  welcome 
to  these  saintly  souls,  not  once  in  years 
seeing  an  educated  man,  and  dependent 
upon  a  yearly  boat  they  send  to  York  on 


i'i 


i  r 


!^-  i 


4     '   I 


^  %  li 


c 


1    i^ 


'.  r 


'V 


( 


II 


t    «( 

i 


74 


Eclipse  and  Rest. 


Hudson  Bay  for  tidings  of  the  world,  and 
supplies. 

And  now  we  were  at  our  journey's  end, 
and  must  speedily  retrace  our  steps.  Yet 
notwithstanding  the  zest  with  which  one 
always  turns  homeward,  we  had  no  little 
longings  for  the  beyond.  We  had  not 
even  reached  Cumberland  House,  that 
ancient  post  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company, 
established  before  our  Revolution  (1774), 
and  we  longed  to  pass  even  that  distant 
station,  and  work  our  way  up  the  Church- 
ill River  to  where  they  scretch  out  their 
'  mds  over  the  long  Methye  Portage  to 
.ne  Athabasca  and  McKenzie  River  peo- 
ple, who  may  float  in  their  barges  to  the 
Arctic  Ocean.  Imagine  the  life  of  the 
factor  of  the  company  forced  to  occupy 
Fort  Simpson  on  the  McKenzie  River, 
Fort  Resolution  on  the  Great  Slave  Lake, 
or  a  post  on  the  distant  Great  Bear  Lake, 
—  vast  inland  seas  scarcely  more  than 
known  by  name  to  us  !  During  the  short 
summer  of   those   regions,  they  send   or 


,i 


The  Region  beyond. 


7S 


l-i\ 


take  their  accumulating  stocks  of  furs  on 
barges  slowly  up  the  river,  and  after  a 
brief  resting-spell  at  Fort  Resolution,  the 
brigades  uniting  here  from  various  points 
work  their  way  up  to  the  twelve-mile 
Methye  Portage,  where  on  the  height  of 
land  of  the  northern  continent,  midway 
between  the  Athabasca  and  the  Church- 
ill, they  exchange  them  for  what  the 
southern  fleets  from  Red  River  have 
brought  in  stores  and  yearly  news,  turn 
quickly  back  again  to  the  frigid  North  and 
silence.  At  the  time  of  our  expedition  it 
was  a  two  years'  journey  to  these  points 
from  Europe. 

While  here  we  gained  a  little  insight 
into  the  character  and  characteristics  of 
the  Indian.  One  single  matter  may  be 
mentioned.  A  sick  woman  near  by  would 
have  none  of  the  medicines  offered  by  the 
clergyman,  — for  a  clergyman  is  here  per- 
force a  doctor  too,  —  because  a  conjurer 
was  then  at  work  with  her,  trying  to  drive 
out  a  devil  which  had  taken  possession  of 


I 


i ' 


K 


i!! 


76 


Eclipse  ami  Rest. 


her  and  which  was  behaving  in  a  very  in- 
convenient manner ;  said  devil  being  as 
hard  as  a  stone,  rather  round,  and  about 
as  big  as  the  tips  of  two  fingers,  very 
uneasy,  perambulating  the  whole  body. 
Just  then  it  was  somewhere  in  the  region 
of  the  heart,  where  it  had  come  on  a  jour- 
ney from  the  top  of  the  head.  There  was 
no  doubt  about  it ;  the  people  all  agreed 
that,  as  the  conjurer  said  so,  and  the 
woman  said  so,  that  was  the  end  of  it. 


CHRIST  CHURCH   AT  THE   PAS. 


I 


VII. 


Down  the    River,  —  Rapids  and  Mosquitoes 


again. 


E  do  not  stay  long  enough  to  learn 
the  fate  of  that  poor  devil,  but  start 
on  our  return  journey  just  at  sun- 
set of  July  20,  laden  with  lettuce, .  idishes, 
and  preserved  currants  from  the  garden 
of  our  new-made  friends.  Down  the  swift 
current  we  press  so  rapidly  that  it  is  still 
ample  daylight  when  we  pass  our  eclipse 
station.  We  paddle  until  ten  o'clock, 
when  all  hands  except  the  watchful  George 
settle  themselves  for  a  night's  sleep  in 
somewhat  narrow  quarters.  It  is  not  the 
first  night  that  we  philosophers  have  tried 
it,  but  sleeping  three  abreast  in  a  width 
of  five  feet,  and  a  length  not  greater, 
admits  of  no  motion  for  change  of  posi- 

77 


\ 


78 


Dcni'it  the  River 


I     I 


!■ 


V\ 


tion  on  the  i)art  of  any  one  ;  perhaps  for- 
tunately, as  more  or  less  water  is  always 
spattered  in,  and  by  morning  we  lie  in  at 
least  an  ii.ch  of  it.  This  night,  however, 
we  are  spared  that,  and  are  not  a  little 
surprised  when,  on  arousing  at  the  men's 
preparations  to  land  for  breakfast,  we  find 
ourselves  close  to  Cedar  Lake  at  Drum 
Island,  or,  as  they  say  for  short  in  Cr^e, 
Kashkebujespuquaneshing  (i.e.,  "tying  the 
mouth  of  a  drum  ").  In  twelve  hours,  half 
of  the  time  with  only  one  paddler,  we  have 
accomplished  what  it  took  thirty  hours 
to  do  on  the  way  up. 

Here  we  find  a  young  Indian  with  his 
wife  and  two  children,  just  arrived  over 
night;  after  the  fashion  of  the  natives, 
Lutterby  unceremoniously  pushes  aside  the 
blanket  covering  the  opening  to  the  lodge, 
and  looks  in,  to  see  if  perhaps  madame 
were  "  tying  the  mouth  of  a  drum." 
Nothing  of  the  sort  :  a  pretty  squaw,  as 
squaws  go,  sits  demurely  by  a  smoulder- 
ing fire,  alone,  disconsolate,  unoccupied ; 


f«! 


Kasbkebujesptiqimneshhtg. 


79 


there  is  nothing  within  save  a  few  uten- 
sils and  old  rags.  For  shame,  Mr.  Liit- 
terby,  to  spy  out  the  nakedness  of  the 
land ! 

By  dinner-time  we  have  reached  the 
island  in  Cedar  Lake  where  we  before 
encamped  and  chafed  at  our  delay,  and 
here  we  are  forced  again  to  stop  and  even 
to  pass  two  whole  days  and  nights,  getting 
away  finally  late  one  afternoon  in  rather  a 
heavy  sea,  from  which  we  escape  as  soon 
as  we  round  Rabbit  Point.  We  were 
tolerably  free  from  mosquitoes  during  the 
two  windy  days  we  passed  on  our  little 
island,  their  place  being  taken  by  innum- 
erable spiders,  but  recx^ive  a  warm  enough 
welcome  to  the  lee  shore  where  we  stop 
for  supper.  The  fire  is  built  against  a  log 
by  some  shrubbery  in  a  boggy  spot  —  the 
only  available  place.  We  cannot  sit  down 
to  the  meal,  but  are  obliged  to  eat  stand- 
ing in  the  smoke  of  the  fire,  brandishing 
a  branch  from  the  bushes  before  our 
faces   with    one    hand,   while    the    other 


i 


\i  I 


So 


Down  the  River. 


ii  ' 


I       ! 


carries  the  food  to  the  mouth.  We  actu- 
ally cannot  stop  brandishing  long  enough 
to  cut  our  meat,  and  sup  on  biscuit  only  ; 
below  the  smoke,  the  mosquitoes,  while 
we  stand  scorchingly  near  the  fire,  cover 
our  trousers  so  thickly  as  to  change  their 
color  to  a  gray,  and  after  we  get  upon  the 
open  breezy  lake  again,  it  is  half  an  hour 
before  we  are  rid  of  thoir  importunities. 

I  mention  this  merely  as  a  passing 
sample  of  the  Saskatchewan  mosquito. 
Our  naturalist  asserts  with  truth  that 
every  insect  he  impales  is  at  the  cost  of 
several  drops  of  blood ;  and  once  they 
were  seen  on  the  river  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
distant,  as  a  cloud  swooping  down  upon 
the  philosophers  from  the  East,  giving 
them  fortunately  just  time  to  cover 
themselves  closely  with  their  blankets, 
vvhere  they  preferred  smothering  to  fiend- 
ish torture.  Yet  they  did  not  even  then 
wholly  escape,  as  this  is  a  sort  that  can 
bite  through  moccasins,  or  through  at 
least  one  layer  of  blanket  in  addition  to 


Saskatchewan  Mosquitoes. 


8i 


ordinary  clothing,  and  have  the  peculiar 
faculty,  so  the  philosophers  discover,  of 
alighting  on  their  probosces,  and  steady- 
•  ing  themselves  afterwards  on  their  legs ; 
—  by  no  means  the  deliberate,  more  san- 
guine, but  less  sanguineous  mosquito  of 
Christendom,  which,  after  alighting,  hoists 
one  hind  leg  as  a  signal  to  his  companions 
not  to  disturb  him  now, — as  he  thinks 
he  will  begin  to  suck. 

The  men  paddle  all  night ;  and  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  we  reach  Cedar- 
lake  House,  where  Mr.  De  Leon,  whom 
the  sound  of  our  paddles  has  doubtless 
aroused,  stands  by  the  alcohol  can  which 
he  has  filled  with  pelicans  and  other  small- 
fry  for  our  naturalist.  The  establishment 
here  consists  of  two  windowless  store- 
houses and  a  bark-roofed  log-cabin  with 
two  rooms,  each  with  one  door  and  one 
window.  One  window  was  of  glass,  with 
four  small  lights  ;  the  other  of  parchment. 
Four  families  lived  here,  and  we  count 
fourteen  dogs. 


\\ 


I 


V  i^ 


S2 


Down  the  River. 


\ 

■    i  1 

M 

■A 

*4 

1 

i 

'     ■      ^ 

|: 

1} 

il' 

f\:j) 

1' 

m 

i 

.              i 

n 


I  )  s 


We  make  a  brief  stop  only,  and  by 
sunrise  commence  to  run  the  rapids,  the 
booseman  standing  with  a  pole  ready  for 
any  emergency,  the  men  meanwhile  pad- 
dling to  keep  the  canoe  under  the  control 
of  eagle-eyed  George.  How  the  banks  fly 
by !  How  the  canoe  bends  and  creaks 
and  squirms!  The  waters  boil,  seethe, 
foam,  and  roar  beside  us,  the  rapids  grow 
whiter  and  whiter  ;  but  we  whiz  on  with 
awful  velocity,  our  thwarts  only  an  inch 
or  two  from  the  mighty,  rushing  flood. 
Indeed,  the  water  constantly  splashes  over 
them.  We  see  a  little  cove  ahead,  and  are 
so  soon  there,  that  only  the  most  lusty 
paddling  of  our  men  can  bring  us  in. 
This  gives  us  a  chance  for  breakfast,  with 
a  little  rest  for  the  men  before  the  worst 
is  undertaken. 

By  a  little  after  seven  we  are  again  in 
the  whirlpools,  rushing  along  with  the  visi- 
bly descending  flood.  We  pass  a  dozen 
canoes  of  Indians  on  one  shore,  who  have 
just  made  a  traverse  of  the  river,  and  are 


i'. 


f.t  ' 


///  the  Rapids. 


83 


'( 


waiting  far  their  dogs,  scattered  over  the 
waters  half  a  mile  below,  between  whom 
we  soon  scurry  by,  and,  when  we  are 
past,  hear  them  baying  as  they  reach 
the  shore.  We  dash  by  the  rock  which 
had  caused  us  so  much  trouble  and  delay 
on  the  up-journey,  and  then  away  we  go 
across  the  river,  and  soon  bring  up  at  the 
portage. 

On  the  road  across  we  turn  aside  into 
the  woods,  where  the  roar  of  the  torrent 
was  the  loudest,  and  gain  the  cliff  above 
them.  Here  the  swollen  river  is  pent  up 
between  high  rocky  walls  on  each  side, 
while  the  descent  is  exceedingly  rapid, 
and  the  waters  are  white  with  foam  from 
shore  to  shore.  We  dine  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  portage ;  and  then,  as  the  lower 
rapids  were  worse  than  those  above,  we 
walk  two  or  three  miles  down  the  bank, 
while  John  and  Francis  portage  the  usual 
load  this  same  distance  ':o  lighten  the 
canoe,  in  which  the  other  men  run  the  rap- 
ids, reaching  the  Indian  village  before  us. 


i 


I 


t    'I 


A 


I 


\>x 


ir 


:  \ 


84 


Down  the  River, 


r 


When  we  arrive,  we  find  our  boys  talk- 
ing with  an  old  chief,  while  the  banks 
are  crowded  with  women  and  children 
of  all  ages.  The  chief  is  smoking,  and 
wears  a  "  stove-pipe "  hat,  having  broad 
alternate  bands  of  blue,  red,  and  yellow, 
extending  from  rim  to  crown.  On  another 
occasion  we  met  an  old  chief  who  wore  a 
silver  medal  with  the  effigy  of  King 
George  on  it,  which  he  had  received  for 
services  rendered  in  the  war  of  1812. 
We  are  soon  dashing  down  stream  again, 
though  the  excitement  of  the  fiercer 
rapids  is  over,  and  bring  up  shortly  in 
the  little  cove  at  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
where  a  fresh  north-east  wind  precludes 
further  movements. 

We  find  enough  to  entertain  us,  how- 
ever; for  here  are  three  young  Indian 
women  picking  gooseberries,  while  the 
small  and  exceedingly  dirty  baby  of  one 
of  them  crawls  naked  in  the  hot  sun  over 
the  sticks  and  stones  of  the  beach.  Billy 
is  speedily  carrying  on  a  flirtation  with  the 


An  Indian  Papoose. 


85 


prettiest  of  them,  who  has  eight  rings  on 
one  hand  and  seven  on  the  other,  and 
makes  her  cook  a  sturgeon  for  the  men, 
who  eat  a  second  dinner,  after  which  the 
women  prepare  to  leave  in  their  canoes. 
The  baby  is  picked  up  (an  act  which  it 
resents  lo  dly),  tossed  naked  on  its  back 
on  the  cradle-board  over  the  knees  of  its 
mother,  who  pays  no  sort  of  attention  to 
its  squalling ;  a  lot  of  moss  is  crowded 
between  its  legs  and  in  the  hollows  of  the 
body,  and  then  fold  after  fold  of  blanket 
and  skins  and  rags  are  pulled  over  it, 
and  all  covered  finally  by  the  ornamented 
cloth  which  is  attached  to  the  cradle- 
board,  and  laced  up  tight.  The  bundle 
is  then  tossed  into  the  canoe,  the  mother 
follows,  picks  it  up,  and,  righting  it  head 
upwards,  off  they  go,  the  child  still  yelling. 


SASKATCHEWAN  COMRADES. 


il 


:.>^ 


); 


i^.l  ■■ 

VIII. 


Lake   Navigation.  —  Delay  and    Starvation 

ahead. 

HE  next  morning,  an  early  start  is 
made,  and  we  are  glad  to  find  our 
"  cache  on  the  island  by  Cape  Kitch- 
inashi  intact,  as  we  have  run  out  of  flour, 
and  left  some  here,  besides  considerable 
pemmican.  We  make  good  progress  until 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  a  north- 
erly breeze  sets  in.  Billy,  who  seems  to 
anticipate  every  misfortune  that  ever  hap- 
pens to  us,  and  a  great  many  that  do  not, 
says,  "It's  going  to  blow  up."  Never  was 
he  nearer  the  truth.  Before  we  can  reach 
a  harbor  a  little  way  ahead,  to  gain  which 
our  men  now  make  every  effort,  the  breeze 
freshens  to  a  gale,  and  forces  us  to  make 
a  hasty  disembarkment  in  a  considerable 

86 


IVind-'Boumi. 


surf  at  much  risk  to  boat  and  baggage, 
not  to  mention  our  feelings,  the  men 
standing  waist  deep  in  water  as  they 
unload,  and  flinging  the  things  ashore  in 
the  most  promiscuous  fashion. 

Here  we  camp,  and  on  the  next  day 
manage  to  make  the  few  miles  that  re- 
main to  the  end  of  Kitchinashi ;  but  we 
cannot  round  the  point,  and  are  con- 
demned to  remain  here  for  four  long  days, 
during  which  we  see  no  living  being  or 
sign  of  one  besides  ourselves.  Fortu- 
nately our  camp  is  directly  on  the  sea- 
beach,  where  we  look  out  upon  the 
broadest  expanse  of  Lake  Winnipeg ;  and 
there  is  no  fixed  time  at  which  we  need 
to  return.  But  pemmican  for  breakfast, 
pemmican  for  dinner,  pemmican  for  sup- 
per, is  beginning  to  pall ;  and  we  can 
only  move  up  and  down  the  sea-beach,  for 
behind  us  is  the  inevitable  muskeg. 

Yet,  clothed  for  the  purpose,  we  make 
one  attempt  to  explore  the  nature  of 
muskegs.     We  pass  first  through  a  small 


I 


I  Hi 


•  II! 


*i  i       i      1 


i-iJJ 


r  ; 


;r  t 


f'   t 


:  1 

1 
t 

1, 

1   ■"; 

i  •  ■ 

iAi 

1 

i^  i 

88         Delay  and  Starvation  Ahead. 

reedy  marsh,  next  through  a  growth  of 
willow,  by  walking  on  the  roots  of  which 
one  can  keep  at  the  wi/  er's  level ;  next 
to  a  sparse  growth  of  tall  tamarack  trees 
with  deep  boggy  sphagnum  moss,  beyond 
which  comes  a  tangled,  scarcely  penetra- 
ble forest  of  thickly  growing  tamarack, 
the  ground  carpeted  with  dry  moss,  invit- 
ing a  little  repose,  which  the  mosquitoes 
will  by  no  means  grant.  Finally  we  reach 
higher  ground,  with  a  rather  scant  birch 
and  poplar  woods,  with  many  rose-bushes 
and  other  plants ;  a  vast  and  reedy  swamp 
succeeding,  we  conclude  that  our  curiosity 
has  been  satisfied.  The  practical  result 
of  the  expedition  is  the  discovery  of  a 
pool  of  cool  and  clean  water,  —  a  great 
comfort,  since,  wade  as  far  as  we  may,  we 
cannot,  while  the  wind  blows  from  the 
south-east,  get  any  thing  but  the  foulest 
water  from  the  lake,  which  no  amount  of 
standing  will  leave  clear. 

The  men  while  away  the  time  in  making 
some  new  white-birch  paddles  by  means 


■f  ^ 


I-    1 


Ji? 


Provisions  Failing. 


89 


of  the  "  crooked  knife  "  which  every  voy- 
ageur  carries  with  him,  and  which  is  cer- 
tainly a  most  convenient  thing  to  handle, 
and  inconvenient  to  stow  away,  with  its 
laterally  curving  blade,  and  bent,  thong- 
bound  handle;  these  they  then  paint  with 
some  red  ochre  they  obtained  from  the 
Indians  on  the  river,  and  hang  them  out 
on  the  trees  to  dry. 

Before  we  finally  escape  from  this  wind- 
girt  peninsula  we  discover  that  all  our 
provisions  are  getting  decidedly  low.  This 
discovery  is  due  to  personal  inspection  of 
the  stock.  Had  we  left  the  condition  of 
our  commissary  department  to  be  reported 
on  by  Billy,  it  would  have  come  from  him 
two  days  later  in  the  unequivocal  form, 
"  No  more  biscuit,  sir."  Fifty  pounds  of 
flour  and  a  few  biscuit  are  all,  besides 
meat,  that  now  remain  for  the  entire 
party,  and  the  cache  at  Grindstone  Point 
is  of  pemmican  only.  We  therefore  find 
a  new  source  of  anxiety  when  we  remem- 
ber that  it  took  us  fully  twelve  days  to 


«  \n 


]      i 


(I 


'I  t' 


I    ■     I 


t  : 


i'M 


r^Hu 


li'f 


1  1 


m 


Q 


90         Delay  ami  Starvation  Ahead, 

reach  this  point.  Hereafter,  cracker  dust 
and  dirt  take  the  place  of  flour  as  one  of 
the  ingredients  of  rousseau. 

Improvidence,  ingrained  in  the  Indian 
nature,  was  illustrated  on  many  occasions. 
Once,  early  in  our  voyage,  Billy  coolly 
unshipped  the  mast  and  hove  it  overboard, 
alleging  as  a  reason  that  they  wished  no 
unnecessary  weight  in  the  boat ;  yet  be- 
fore we  reached  the  end  of  the  traverse 
we  were  then  making,  we  should  have 
used  the  sail  if  we  had  had  a  mast,  and 
have  gained  much  more  time  than  the 
additional  weight  could  have  cost. 

Late  on  the  fifth  morning  we  deter- 
mine to  start  at  all  hazards,  as  the  wind, 
though  high,  is  a  little  less  boisterous, 
and  we  have  only  half  a  mile  before  round- 
ing the  point  and  gaining  a  lee  shore. 
The  men  have  to  load  the  canoe,  as  before 
to  unload  it,  while  standing  waist  deep  in 
water ;  and  to  lighten  it  the  philosophers 
walk  around  the  point,  where  they  find 
the  bowlders  so  abundant  as  to  force  them 


'i;i 


-^!' 

in;,    i 

'     t  »'      "  1 

■   ■  J    ■'        1 

^il 

■m^\ 

A  Lucky  Egg. 


91 


to  continue  on  for  two  or  three  miles,  be- 
fore the  canoe  can  safely  approach  the 
shore  in  the  swell.  After  dinner  we  are 
able  to  track  again,  but  when  the  coast 
turns  southward,  the  waves  again  increase, 
and  we  run  behind  the  Gull  Islands  for 
more  quiet  water. 

Gull  Islands  well  called ;  the  numbers 
of  these  fowl  make  the  white  sand  still 
whiter,  while  screaming  clouds  overhead 
almost  darken  the  sky.  Our  men  land  on 
one  of  the  islands,  and  each  brings  back 
his  hat  filled  to  the  brim  with  eggs ;  be- 
sides this  we  shoot  a  goose  and  six  gos- 
lings as  big  as  ducks.  As  usual,  all  these 
are  despatched  at  the  next  meal,  while  the 
usual  quantity  of  pemmican  is  also  served. 
Never,  indeed,  was  a  single  bit  of  fresh 
food  left  over  by  them  for  a  second  meal. 
The  eggs,  as  might  oe  imagined,  were  in 
various  stages  of  incubation,  but  nothing 
comes  amiss  at  this  stage  of  our  journey, 
—  we  shut  our  eyes  and  enjoy  the  feast 
as  much  as  the  half-breeds. 


'   i 


'    n 


M' 


I    I 


)h 


I'    'I 


,        I'l^ 


i«:? 


:'?    !    f 


i| 


^)7 


92  DWjj'  anii  Starvation  Ahead, 

We  stop  for  supper  at  the  lower  of  the 
Gull  Islands,  where  the  May-flies  settle 
upon  us  from  head  to  foot,  and  cover  all 
the  victuals,  often  stupidly  alighting  on  the 
food  on  its  way  to  the  mouth.  One  of  our 
party  on  his  return  from  a  short  walk 
comes  back  so  enveloped  with  them  as  to 
wholly  change  the  color  of  his  clothing. 
We  expect  to  camp  here,  but  soon  after 
supper,  the  wind  subsiding,  we  find  the 
traverse  to  the  main  land  possible,  when 
the  water  also  is  seen  to  be  everywhere 
so  covered  with  the  exuviae  of  ephemerae 
that  it  is  impossible  to  ^et  a  clean  dipper- 
full  anywhere.  The  next  day,  camp  being 
made  as  soon  as  we  reach  the  main  land, 
we  find  the  western  coast  of  the  lake  lined 
with  a  windrow  of  dead  May-flies  nearly  a 
foot  deep,  which  we  afterwards  trace  from 
the  canoe  for  twenty  miles. 

We  speed  southward  this  day  by  pad- 
dling, tracking,  and  sailing,  and  camp  in 
an  old  dining  spot  by  Warpath  River. 
The  next  day  we  make  the  long  traverse 


A  May 'Fly  or  Tivo. 


93 


below  this,  and  pass  by  Sturgeon  Islands, 

up  so  lon^r  on   our 


where  we  were  shut 
journey 


north  ;    we   onlv   i^ain    the   mai 


n 


land  at  Point  Wigwam  l^y  dinner-time, 
coming  in  on  the  white-caps  to  a  spot 
where  we  have  hardly  room  to  turn  in, 
but  which  we  are  forced  to  make  the  best 
of  until  the  next  morning.  Then,  though 
we  start  by  three  o'clock  and  strive  our 
best  to  get  ahead,  shipping  no  little  water, 
we  arc  obliged  in  an  hour  (like  many 
another  doubtless),  to  put  about  into  a 
harbor,  just  short  of  Point  Turnagain. 
After  breakfast,  however,  we  are  able  to 
make  another  start,  and  effect  the  traverse 
of  Lynx  Bay,  where  we  are  forced  to  camp 
on  a  beach  of  paving-stones,  which  do  not 
make  the  best  bed  at  night. 

Here  the  afternoon  is  spent  in  trying  to 
get  some  fresh  food,  as  we  discover  that 
the  flour  is  nearly  gone,  and  the  Red-river 
granite  altogether  reduced  to  cracker-dust 
mixed  with  sand.  The  result  is  not  al- 
together satisfactory.     A  few  pigeon  and 


\i 


'•  i 

ill. 

i 

i 

1   1 

, , 

'-  ; 

1    1 

It 

\  ■ 

^   ) 

, 

rl 

1 ,  , 

I 
V 

>;       I 


94 


Df/jv'  ^7//t/  starvation  Ahead. 


a  squirrel  only  add  to  the  meat-diet,  but 
raspberries  are  found  in  scanty  numbers, 
and  even  a  few  ootaemina,  strawberries 
or  heart-berries  as  the  name  means.  A  few 
wild  pease  are  voted  a  success  ;  they  are 
the  only  vegetables  we  have  tasted  since 
leaving  the  Pas.  It  is  true  they  are  small, 
wormy,  and  bitter ;  and  Ides  declares  their 
use  a  highly  irregular  and  injudicious  pro- 
ceeding. With  much  persuasion,  he  is 
finally  induced  to  try  one  mouthful,  but  is 
obliged  at  once  to  turn  to  pemmican  to 
take  out  the  taste. 


*•  0' 


t.i 


'  !l 


THE  VOVAGEUR's   "  tKOOKED   KNIFE." 


^ 1 a. 


IX. 

The  Bishop's  Loaf.  —  A  Run  of  Luck. 

UR  stone-heap  detains  an  anxious 
I  party  until  the  next  afternoon, 
when  we  launch  in  a  pretty  heavy 
sea,  which  beats  finely  against  the  over- 
hanging cliffs  of  the  Cat  Head,  the  only 
bit  of  striking  scenery  on  the  lake.  The 
waves  lessen  to  swells,  and  so  we  make 
a  comfortable  traverse  of  Kinwow  Bay, 
reaching  the  other  side  a  little  after 
sunset ;  rounding  Wicked  Point  to  gain 
the  sheltered  cove  on  its  southern  side, 
we  espy  therein  a  barge  and  fires,  at 
which  our  men  at  once  give  a  loud 
shout,  eliciting  an  immediate  response. 
We  land  just  beyond  their  two  tents 
(the  tents  show  that  they  are  not  mere 
traders),  and  our  men  whisper  to  us, 
"French  priests." 

95 


' 


il' 


If.    '■ 


A  Run  of  Luck. 

Sure  enough,  after  our  fire  is  kindled, 
and  our  tent  up,  we  receive  a  call  from  a 
long-robed  man  of  fine  appearance,  ac- 
companied by  the  captain  of  the  boat, 
who  introduces  him  to  us  as  "His  Rever- 
ence the  Bishop  Grandin."  This  was  the 
sixth  year  which  this  devoted  priest,  then 
recently  consecrated  Bishop  of  Satala,  had 
spent  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  coun- 
try to  the  North.  He  was  now  on  his 
way  to  r.nglish  River  with  a  priest  and 
several  nuns.  Our  men,  of  course,  know 
the  men  of  his  party,  and  soon  return  from 
a  visit  to  them  with  a  welcome  addition  to 
their  stores  in  the  shape  of  tea  and  flour. 

Billy  too  comes  with  a  load,  having 
made  known  to  the  good  bishop  our  neces- 
sities, and  been  at  once  furnished  with  a 
loaf  of  bread,  some  hard  biscuit,  tea,  and 
eggs.  The  loaf  is  nearly  three  feet  long 
and  more  than  two  feet  wic^e,  and  is  chris- 
tened the  "bishop's  loaf;"  it  is  indeed  a 
little  musty,  and  the  biscuit  on  examina- 
tion reveal  various  dubious  colors, — yel- 


. 


> 

H 

H 
I 
m 

> 

H 

II 

m 

> 

D 


lr:'4 


It 


^l 


'! 


tif 


iihff 


■   1    ■ 

> 

i  ■ 

i' 

i> 

J 

1 

,  i 

ft 


1:1 


4 


The  ""Bishop's  Loaf." 


97 


low,  green,  orange,  and  black  contending 
for  supremacy  with  the  normal  brown  of 
the  Red-river  article.  It  is  nothing  to 
us  who  have  now  but  just  one  quart  of 
cracker-dust  left,  besides  pemmican  and 
salt  meat,  and  have  still  to  pass  over 
ground  it  took  seven  days  to  cover  on  the 
northward  journey.  "  Hard-looking  bread, 
though,"  says  Ides. 

Scarcely  less  welcome  is  a  copy  of  "  The 
Nor' wester,"  the  weekly  newspaper  of  Red 
River,  which  we  eagerly  scan  by  the  fire- 
light to  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  outside 
world  from  which  we  have  been  so  long 
shut  out.  Meagre  indeed  is  the  news. 
The  entrance  of  Garibaldi  into  Sicily,  and 
the  arrival  of  "  The  Great  Eastern "  in 
American  waters ;  but  not  one  word  of 
the  result  of  the  presidential  conven*:ions 
which  have  been  holding  in  "the  States." 

After  a  delightful  supper,  for  which  we 
are  glad  to  express  our  profuse  thanks  to 
his  Reverence,  and  in  scant  return  to  carry 
back  a  letter   to   Archbishop  Tach6,  we 


\  I 


'   w 


98 


A  Run  of  Liuk. 


k^ 


start  again,  we  hope  for  the  night,  as  the 
water  is  quiet ;  but  George  is  unwilling  to 
proceed  after  dark,  covered  rocks  near  the 
shore  being  abundant  in  this  part  of  the 
lake :  so  finding  a  sheltered  spot  a  little 
farther  on,  the  canoe  is  left  afloat  and 
loaded,  ready  for  an  early  start. 

The  night  is  warm,  and  the  mosquitoes 
thirsty  ;  so  two  of  our  philosophers  wisely 
sleep  in  the  canoe,  and  scarcely  know  the 
early  hour  of  start,  while  the  third  fights 
it  out  on  shore.  We  haul  up  at  Jackfish 
River  for  breakfast,  and  soon  receive  a 
visit  from  a  fleet  of  seven  canoes,  with 
about  twenty  men,  women,  and  children, 
and  a  dozen  dogs,  —  Indians  that  had 
espied  us  from  their  camp  up  the  river. 
They  bring  fresh  fish  to  trade  (welcome 
sight ! ),  which  we  obtain  for  a  little  pem- 
mican.  Four  or  five  miles  below  this  we 
are  stopped  by  the  wind,  and  have  to 
camp.  Luckily  we  find  here  an  abun- 
dance of  wild  pease,  so  that  we  sup  on 
fried   gold-eyes,   pease,   and   the   bishop's 


,1 


i 


Pitching  the  Canoe. 


99 


loaf,  —  a  royal  feast,  with  not  a  taste  of 
pemmican. 

This  evening  the  men  give  our  craft 
a  thorough  overhauling.  After  the  cargo 
has  been  landed,  the  canoe  is  brought 
around,  bow  to  the  shore,  lifted  carefully 
from  the  water  and  carried  up  the  beach. 
Here,  with  many  interjections,  the  men 
tip  it  upside  down,  turn  it  broadside  to  the 
wind;  and  prop  the  lower  rail  upon  a  stake. 
In  this  position  it  makes  a  capital  shelter 
from  the  rain,  which  the  men  on  occasion 
are  not  slow  to  use,  both  for  luggage  and 
themselves.  While  the  other  men  look 
after  the  philosophers'  tent,  the  stock  of 
wood,  and  supper,  George  and  Narcisse 
inspect  the  canoe.  They  first  look  sharply 
at  the  seams,  feeling  them  tenderly,  and 
at  every  doubtful  spot  apply  their  mouths 
to  the  pitch  and  bark  to  see  whether  they 
can  suck  the  air  through.  Any  point 
needing  attention  is  marked  with  a  bit 
of  charred  wood.  Then  brands  are  taken 
from  the  fire,  held  next  the  marked  spots, 


II 


1 


! 

(I 


i> 


i 


i 


i 


w 


i    t 


ii.n.: 


I' 


5'    I 


\\ 


100 


/^  ^/m  ^/  Ltick. 


and  the  holes  closed  by  pressing  the  soft- 
ened pitch  with  the  moistened  thumb. 
This  process  is,  indeed,  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent,  a  nightly  one  ;  and  the  dim  figures 
of  the  men  stooping  over  the  canoe  with 
glowing  torches,  and  apparently  making 
their  supper  from  the  pitch,  makes  a  weird 
picture  from  our  tent. 

We  are  aroused  at  three  by  the  ever- 
watchful  George,  only  to  round  another 
point,  and  gain  about  two  miles,  where  we 
find  a  little  pond  apparently  connected 
with  some  inland  stream  discharging  it- 
self into  the  lake ;  but  as  the  wind  rises, 
and  the  lake  with  it,  the  current  turns  the 
opposite  way.  It  rains  torrents,  and  then 
the  sun  comes  out  burning  hot,  but  all  the 
while  it  blows.  To  add  to  our  comfort, 
we  find  at  dinner-time  that  the  fish  have 
not  been  pioperly  cared  for,  and  are  past 
the  demand  of  even  our  now  not  over 
fastidious  stomachs ;  while  some  one  has 
been  using  the  bread-bag  as  a  bench,  and 
the  bishop's  loaf  has  gone  to  smash.     We 


\ 


///  the  Narrows, 


lOI 


are  torn  between  a  fear  that  if  we  do  not 
quickly  dispose  of  it,  it  will  turn  to  mould 
altogether,  and  that  if  we  partake  of  it 
freely  it  will  not  last  our  journey  through. 
We  try  to  toast  our  mouldy  biscuit  before 
the  hot  fire,  but  the  heat  can  only  pene- 
trate the  outer  layer. 

We  are  partially  comforted  at  being  able 
to  start  again  shortly  after  dinner,  and 
by  hoisting  sail  to  make  rapid  progress 
homewards,  and  even  to  attempt  the  long 
traverse  among  the  islands,  where  the 
scenery  begins  to  improve  somewhat.  We 
land  for  supper  on  an  island,  and  then 
pass  rapidly  on,  still  under  sail,  by  White- 
way's  Point,  now  night,  and  adown  the 
strait  between  the  two  sections  of  the  lake. 
The  wind,  however,  begins  to  freshen,  and 
we  to  fear  we  shall  not  long  be  able  to 
continue,  when  up  comes  a  thunder  gust, 
and  forces  us  to  a  speedy  harbor  on  the 
east  side  of  the  lake. 

Remembering  the  fight  we  had  with  the 
mosquitoes   a   little   farther  up  at    Dog's 


11 


I02 


A  Run  of  Luck. 


I H 


Head,  and  the  storm  passing  to  one  side, 
we  betake  ourselves  with  blankets  to  the 
rocky  point  which  forms  one  end  of  the 
cove,  and  choose  soft  places  on  the  rocks 
to  sleep,  where  the  wind  sweeps  over  us, 
and,  taking  boots  for  pillows,  are  soon 
asleep.  As  each  chooses  a  nice  little 
hollow  to  sleep  in,  and  as  rain  comes  up 
in  the  night,  our  worthy  philosophers  find 
themselves  in  the  morning  lying  each  in  a 
pool  of  water. 

The  wind  continues ;  and  we  solace 
ourselves  with  the  joyful  discovery  of 
blueberries,  raspberries,  and  suskatoomina, 
—  a  most  toot'iisome  fruit,  —  until  the  un- 
expected cry  of  George  brings  us  quickly 
to  the  canoe.  Raising  sail  before  we  are 
out  of  the  tiny  harbor,  we  scud  along 
among  the  white  caps  at  no  little  peril, 
until  another  thunder  gust  brings  us  per- 
force to  shore,  scarcely  making  a  harbor, 
though  on  this  east  coast  they  abound. 
We  are  able  to  start  again  in  the  middle 
of    the    afternoon,   and    run   down    Loon 


w 

z 

o 

JO 
H 
3!    .„, 

n 

> 

o 
w 

> 


H 
K 
W 

o 

H 

n 

> 

o 
w 

d 

s: 
t) 
w 


i 


f 


^m  ) 


i< 


'.mh 


'  I 


Ir-  ■, .  * 


i 


M: 


The  Eiiif  of  the  Pemmicau.         103 


Strait  until  we  reach  the  point  where  we 
must  make  the  traverse  to  the  west  coast, 
—  too  risky  so  near  night  in  this  sea.  So 
we  camp  upon  the  open  sand,  with  no  cov- 
ering, hoping  for  an  early  start. 

We  get  it,  for  it  is  barely  daybreak 
when  we  are  summoned  from  a  sleep, 
restless  from  mosquitoes  and  rain,  to  find 
the  showers  over  indeed,  but  the  sky  nasty, 
our  blankets  drenched,  and  much  of  our 
clothing  wet  through  to  the  skin.  Glad 
enough  are  we  when,  shivering  and  stiff, 
we  reach  the  other  side  at  Grindstone 
Point  by  six  o'clock.  George,  however, 
does  not  propose  to  stop,  but  sends  two  of 
the  men  to  find  the  cached  pemmican, 
with  some  anxiety  now,  for  of  even  that 
but  a  few  pounds  are  left.  Fortunately 
only  a  mink  or  other  small  animal  has 
found  it  out  ;  it  is  woefully  mouldy,  but 
every  pound  is  precious.  The  wind  rising 
while  the  men  are  gone,  we  are  forced  to 
land,  and  fire  and  breakfast  soon  restore 
warmth  and  comfort. 


^1 


it 


I 
lib 


'■  .% 


&^i 


■i    :♦' 


i    f- 


'%    I-^ 


:i 


104 


y4  Run  of  Ltich. 


By  ten  o'clock  we  are  able  to  make  a 
fresh  start ;  and,  having  now  the  wind  with 
us,  we  hoist  sail,  and  pass  rapidly  down 
the  west  coast.  At  dinner  we  dispose  of 
the  last  of  the  eggs,  start,  again  under 
sail,  through  the  Grassy  Narrows  to  Sandy 
Bar,  where  we  sup  and  rejoice  in  large, 
fine  raspberries,  and,  alas  !  the  last  crumb 
of  the  bishop's  loaf.  When  this  meal  is 
finished,  we  find  only  three  biscuit  remain- 
ing,—  one  apiece.  We  scour  the  place 
for  wild  pease,  and  pick  a  few  in  yellow 
pods,  while  the  men  are  taking  their 
smoke. 

At  sunset  we  start  again.  The  wind 
has  died  down,  and  the  men  take  their 
paddles  with  the  intention  of  keeping  it  up 
all  night.  Narcisse  starts  one  of  his  many 
weird  French-Canadian  boat-songs,  in  the 
refrain  of  which  Billy,  Francis,  and  Boozie 
join.  The  chorus,  thrice  repeated,  has  an 
amusing  effect  upon  our  philosophers,  be- 
cause the  words  sound  so  precisely  like, 
"  I   know  you   left   my   daugh-augh-ter." 


► 


The  Last  Crumb  Gone, 


105 


By  midnight  we  stop  for  a  little  hot  tea 
and  pemmican,  and  before  the  men  are 
back,  their  cargo  is  fast  asleep. 

All  night  long  they  sing  and  paddle, 
and  when  we  philosophers  arouse  our- 
selves, we  discover  a  calm  sea  and  the 
Willow  Islands  just  passed.  By  breakfast- 
time  we  are  quite  sure  of  reaching  the 
Red  River  before  the  next  meal,  and  pass 
the  scanty  remnants  of  our  salt  beef  and 
pork  over  to  the  men.  Billy  mixes  the 
very  last  of  our  old  cracker-dust  with  our 
pemmican  to  make  rousseau,  and  the  flour- 
bag  is  shaken  for  the  last  bannock.  Off 
we  go  again  in  fine  spirits. 

Soon  the  men  land  to  c:it  a  couple  of 
poles  by  which  to  rig  a  leg-of-mutton  sail 
to  use  with  the  quartering  wind.  John 
and  Boozie  are  getting  sleepy  enough; 
and,  the  sail  rigged,  even  sturdy  Francis 
lays  his  head  down  on  the  boxes  in  front 
of  him  for  a  cat-nap.  At  last,  we  sight 
the  entrance  to  Red  River,  hidden  among 
the   rushes,  soon   land,  recover  a  cached 


ti 


io6 


A  Run  of  Luck. 


H 


.1  < 


l\m 


.V.' 


■.:i 


\'>:h 


case  of  alcohol,  eat  a  second  meal  from  the 
remains  of  our  mouldy  biscuit  and  twice- 
cooked  rousseau,  and  before  noon,  with  not 
a  morsel  of  food  left,  quit  the  boisterous 
lake,  and  move  by  sail  and  paddle  past  the 
interminable  reeds  oi  the  lower  river. 

Suddenly  we  emerge  upon  an  Indian 
town  ;  and  the  whole  village,  not  the  least 
the  dogs,  salute  us  from  the  bank.  Little 
urchins,  shirted  but  bare-legged,  invite  us 
to  a  race,  and  take  the  lead  along  the 
bluff,  with  head  erect,  expanded  chest, 
and  streaming  hair,  followed  by  a  train  of 
yelping  curs.  We  hoist  our  flag  at  the 
stern  as  we  rapidly  gain  civilization,  and 
look  for  the  well-remembered  landmarks. 
Green  slopes  with  grazing  cattle  are  a 
gladsome  sight.  Soon  we  are  by  Francis's 
house,  who  lands  his  bundle,  and  is  back 
in  a  trice ;  next  at  Mapleton,  where  most 
of  the  men  live,  and  a  longer  stay  is  made, 
the  men  bringing  back  a  lunch  to  eat  on 
the  way ;  last  of  all  at  George's  house, 
only  "long  enough  to  kiss  the  wife,"  and 


,  H 


Safely  Bach. 


107 


to  learn  he  has  a  new  grandson.  By  half- 
past  seven  the  v;alls  of  the  fort  are  seen, 
when  a  few  minutes  of  rapid  paddling, 
timed  to  Narcisse's  cheery  song,  brings  us 
to  the  landing-place ;  and  our  long  canoe- 
voyage  of  forty-two  days  is  over.  We  had 
been  provisioned  for  thirty-five. 


ENCROACHMENT  OF  THE  LAKE  ON  A  CLAY  BANK. 


m 


I  f 

1 '.  i 


If 


n 
'in 


X. 

y4  Unique  Settlement  and  its  Neighbors. 

ET  us  now  tak  a  look  at  this 
unique  colony  i  the  wilderness, 
for  here  we  are  forced  to  spend  a 
fortnight ;  the  first  news  we  receive  on 
landing  being  that  the  Red-river  steamer 
is  aground  on  the  Goose -river  Rapids, 
more  than  a  hundred  miles  away !  This 
is  all  we  can  learn.  There  are  no  other 
news,  no  letters,  no  papers. 

What  an  extraordinary  settlement !  Here 
is  a  colony  of  about  ten  thousand  souls  scat- 
tered among  plantations  for  thirty  miles 
along  the  Red  and  half  as  many  along  the 
Assiniboine  River,  almost  wholly  depen- 
dent for  intelligence  from  the  outer  world 
on  one  stern -wheeled  steamer.   That  breaks 

down  ;  and  before  word  can  be  sent  of  their 

1 08 


The  Selkirk  Settlement. 


109 


I 


complete  isolation,  weeks  must  pass  be- 
fore the  old  and  painful  canoe-route  by 
way  of  the  Lake  of  the  Woods  can  be 
opened,  or  the  wagon  make  its  tedious 
journey  to  the  head-waters  of  the  Red 
River  and  back,  improvising  on  the  way 
its  own  ferries  over  the  swift  and  deep 
streams  which  feed  it. 

Finding  haste  of  no  avail,  and  despatch- 
ing our  luggage  on  carts  to  the  Upper 
Fort  and  centre  of  settlement,  twenty 
miles  away,  we  start  there  on  foot  the 
next  day  to  view  the  land  and  its  inhabit- 
ants. The  road,  the  "  King's  Road,"  is 
a  mere  cart-track  in  the  deep  loam,  taking 
its  independent  course  on  either  side  of 
the  houses,  all  of  which  front  the  river  in 
a  single  wavering  line  ;  for  the  country  is 
given  up  absolutely  to  farming,  for  which 
the  rich  mould,  said  to  be  three  or  four 
feet  deep,  eminently  fits  it  ;  and  the  lots, 
each  with  a  nar  ow  frontage  at  the  bank 
of  the  river,  extend  back  two  miles  into 
the  prairie.     All  is  at  a  dead  level.     John 


M  ''§ 


m 


i!i  (. 


ii  >■ '  V,  J 


\ 


i 


vm'.  if. 


■}  ■ 


1 10 


A  Unique  Settlement. 


Omand  had  asked  us  cO  dine  at  his  house; 
but  accidentally  passing  it  without  recog- 
nizing it  from  his  description,  we  select  a 
fair  representative  of  t!  common  class 
of  houses,  and  ask  for  a  dinner. 

It  is  a  log-cabin,  like  all  of  this  class 
(some  few  better  ones  have  walls  of  stone), 
with  a  thatched  roof,  and  a  rough  stone 
and  mortar  chimney  planted  against  one 
wall.  Inside  is  but  a  single  room,  well 
whitewashed,  as  is  indeed  the  outside,  and 
exceptionally  tidy ;  a  bed  occupies  one 
corner,  a  sort  of  couch  anotlicr,  a  rung- 
ladder  leads  up  to  loose  boards  overhead 
which  form  an  attic,  a  trap-door  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  opens  to  a  small  hole 
in  the  ground  where  milk  and  butter  are 
kept  cool ;  from  the  beams  is  suspended  a 
hammock,  used  as  a  cradle  for  the  baby  ; 
shelves  similarly  hung  hold  a  scanty  stock 
of  plates,  knives,  and  forks  ;  two  windows, 
one  on  either  side,  covered  with  mosquito- 
netting,  admit  the  light  and  a  modicum  of 
air;  chests  and   boxes   supply  the  place 


Homes  ami  Hospitality. 


Ill 


^ 


I 


of  seats,  with  here  and  there  a  keg  by  way 
of  easy-chair.  An  open  fireplace  of  white- 
washed clay  gives  signs  of  cheer  and 
warmth  in  the  long  winter,  and  a  half- 
dozen  books  for  library  complete  the 
scene. 

Our  hosts  feel  so  ''highly  honored  to 
have  such  gentlemen  enter  their  house," 
—  these  are  their  very  words,  —  that  it  is 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  they  are  forced 
to  take  any  compensation  for  the  excellent 
meal  of  bread,  butter,  and  rich  cream, 
which  they  set  before  us,  and  to  which  we 
do  ample  justice. 

This  was  not  the  only  interior  we  saw. 
We  had  before  called  on  the  single  scien- 
tific man  of  the  settlement,  Donald  Gunn, 
and  later  in  the  day  are  forced  by  a  thun- 
der-storm to  seek  shelter  in  the  nearest 
house,  where  we  are  also  warmly  wel- 
comed, and,  the  rain  continuing,  are  glad 
to  accept  the  cordial  invitations  of  its 
inhabitants  to  pass  the  night.  This  is  a 
larger  house,  but  only  the  father  of   the 


' 


ill 


'  If 


1 

■  1 
1 

'   'J 

1 

,   1 

f 

, 

■:i 

i 

i 

, . 

i  .'■ 

r   ,' 

1 

r. 

112 


y4  Unique  Settlement, 


family  and  his  buxom  daughter  Susie,  a 
lively  girl  of  eighteen  or  nineteen,  are  at 
home,  the  others  being  off  at  the  other  end 
of  their  long  and  narrow  farm,  where  they 
have  temporary  shelter  during  the  harvest. 
We  have  each  a  chamber  to  ourselves 
in  the  garret, — reached  in  the  same  primi- 
tive method  as  before  mentioned,  —  and 
are  shown  with  a  dip  of  buffalo-tallow  to 
our  rooms.  The  furniture  of  these  con- 
sists of  a  sort  of  couch,  with  buffalo-skins 
for  mattress  and  wolf-skins  for  sheets  and 
coverlet,  a  chest  for  a  seat,  a  punch-bowl  of 
water  in  a  broken  chair  for  washstand,  and 
a  torn  bit  of  rag  for  towel  ;  while  a  barrel 
covered  with  a  white  cloth  serves  as  a 
centre-table,  and  is  besprinkled  with  an- 
tique books.  Among  those  in  his  cham- 
ber our  naturalist  discovers  one  which 
appears  to  be  a  catechism  of  human 
knowledge,  containing  among  other  enter- 
taining and  instructive  information,  as 
an  answer  to  the  question,  "What  is  a 
shark.-*"  the  highly  satisfactory  reply  that 


\ 


i 


', 


^        The  Origin  of  the  Colony.         1 1 3 

it   is    "An   animal    having    eighty -eight 
teeth." 

Our  host  absolutely  refuses  to  take  any 
thing  but  a  promise  to  come  again  if  we 
have  a  chance,  and  leaves  upon  us  a  very 
pleasing  impression  of  these  simple-hearted 
and  simple-mannered  colonists.  Probably 
but  few  of  those  we  see  are  original  colon- 
ists themselves,  but  the  descendants  of 
those  who  came  under  the  patronage 
of  the  Earl  of  Selkirk  from  the  north  of 
Scotland  and  the  Orkney  Islands,  —  Celts 
given  to  farming.  The)  first  came  to  this 
region  in  181 2,  more  than  a  year  on  their 
journey  by  way  of  Hudson  Bay  and  Nel- 
son River,  approaching  the  country  from 
the  icy  North.  They  found  it  inhabited 
by  Indians  (Chippevvays  and  Crees)  of  a 
peaceful  disposition,  but  subject  to  war- 
like incursions  from  the  hostile  and  bloody 
Sioux.  More  than  this,  the  country  was 
the  scene  of  constant  dispute  and  often  of 
serious  conflict  between  the  Hudson  Bay 
and  North-west  Companies,  each  trying  to 


M 


{\ 


■iM-( 


h 


f'i 


i 


:i 


114 


//  Unique  Settlement. 


outwit  the  other  or  force  it  from  the  field 
of  Indian  trade,  until  the  union  of  the 
companies  in  182 1.  Even  after  compara- 
tive quiet  was  insured,  it  was  hard  to  be 
compelled  to  battle  with  the  flood  which 
now  and  again  destn  yed  their  all,  or  with 
the  failure,  partial  or  complete,  of  the 
buffalo-hunters  who  supplied  their  winter 
needs,  especially  when  their  only  commu- 
nication with  the  outer  world  was  through 
the  tedious  and  dangerous  passage  of 
Hudson  Strait ;  and  they  were  almost  ab- 
solutely dependent  on  the  not  always  ready 
sympathy  of  the  officials  f  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company. 

Yet  the  wants  of  the  colony  were  few, 
the  peasantry  simple  and  industrious,  and 
their  lot  in  life  did  not  seem  to  them  hard. 
The  earth  yielded  bountifully,  and  in  time 
of  temporary  disaster  fishing  and  hunting 
stood  them  in  good  stead.  In  process  of 
time  two  classes  of  half-breeds  sprang  up, 
and  at  our  visit  formed  the  larger  part 
of   the   population,  —  one  class  of  British 


5' 


S^-^r- 


The  Half 'Breeds. 


115 


parentage,  partaking  largely  of  their  fa- 
ther's character;  the  other  of  French,  from 
the  intermingling  of  the  French  voyageur 
and  the  Indian,  —  a  lively,  wandering,  un- 
easy race,  ToUovving  the  religion  of  their 
fathers,  and  from  whom  have  come  a 
large  share  of  the  troubles  which  have  be- 
set the  colony  in  more  recent  time.  It 
was  largely  from  this  latter  class  that  the 
hunters  were  recruited  who,  twice  a  year, 
ranged  the  plains  to  the  westward  in 
search  of  buffalo,  accompanied  always  by 
many  Indians,  who  live  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  colony.  Farther  and  farther  have 
they  been  compelled  to  go,  until  at  our 
visit  no  buffalo  could  be  found  within  a 
hundred  miles  at  nearest.  Now  they  are 
all  in  the  "happy  hunting-grounds." 

The  hunt  is  just  over  as  we  reach  the 
settlement,  and  every  day  carts  come  in 
laden  with  buffalo-meat,  hides,  and  pemmi- 
can.  The  prairie,  back  from  the  river  by 
Fort  Garry,  is  dotted  with  carts,  lodges, 
and  tents.     Many  are  living  in  rude  shel- 


ii6 


A  Ui.ique  Settlement. 


Vi' 


ters  formed  of  the  carts  themselves, 
placed  back  to  back,  and  the  sides  secured 
by  hides. 

These  carts  illustrate  well  the  primitive 
nature  and  the  isolation  of  the  colony. 
They  are  the  vehicles  in  universal  use, 
and  are  built  on  the  general  pattern  of  our 
one-horse  tip-carts,  though  they  do  not 
tip,  and  not  a  scrap  of  iron  enters  into 
them.  They  are  without  springs  of  course, 
and  rawhide  and  wooden  pins  serve  to 
keep  together  the  pieces  out  of  which  they 
are  constructed.  As  they  have  no  tires, 
and  the  sections  of  the  wheel  part  or 
crowd  together  according  to  the  moisture, 
a  train  of  these  carts  bringing  in  the  pro- 
ducts of  the  hunt  is  a  strange  sight.  Each 
cart  has  its  own  peculiar  creak,  hoarse  and 
grating,  and  waggles  its  own  individual 
waggle,  graceless  and  shaky,  on  the  un- 
even ground.  To  add  to  its  oddity,  the 
shafts  are  heavy,  straight  beams,  between 
which  is  harnessed  an  ox,  the  harness  of 
rawhide  without  buckles. 


2! 

H 

W 
50 
t-t 
O 
7i 


PI 


73 

O 
> 

?0 


W^i 


Dlfe 


^ 


Carts  and  Tea. 


117 


J 


(I 


Everybody  makes  for  himself  what  he 
wishes  in  this  undifferentiated  settlement. 
We  return  in  tatters.  Not  a  tailor,  nor  any 
thing  approaching  the  description  of  one, 
exists  here,  and  a  week's  search  is  needed 
to  discover  such  a  being  as  a  shoemaker. 
A  single  store  in  the  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany's post  at  each  of  the  two  forts, 
twenty  miles  apart,  supplies  the  goods  of 
the  outside  world,  and  the  purchaser 
must  furnish  the  receptacle  for  carriage. 
For  small  goods  this  invariably  consists, 
as  far  as  we  can  see,  of  a  red  bandanna 
handkerchief,  so  that  purchases  have  to 
be  small  and  frequent ;  not  all  of  one  sort, 
however,  for  the  native  can  readily  tie 
up  his  tea  in  one  corner,  his  sugar  and 
buttons  in  two  others,  and  still  have  one 
left  for  normal  uses.  How  many  handker- 
chiefs a  day  are  put  to  use  may  be  judged 
from  the  fret  that  the  average  sale  of  tea 
at  Upper  Fort  Garry  is  four  large  boxes 
daily,  —  all,  be  it  remembered,  up  to  this 
time,  brought  by  ship  to  Hudson  Bay,  and 


Ii8 


A  Unique  Settlement. 


I 


thence  by  bateaux  and  portage  to  the  Red 
River.  Regular  freightage  through  the 
States  has  hardly  commenced  at  our  visit. 
Though  entrance  to  any  house  would 
be  given  to  a  respectable  stranger  without 
thought  of  compensation,  there  is  but  one 
place  in  the  entire  settlement  where  one 
may  claim  a  lodging,  and  pay  for  it, —  the 
Royal  Hotel,  close  by  Fort  Garry,  and 
the  real  centre  of  the  settlement.  Even 
this  has  only  been  in  existence  a  single 
year,  and  it  is  one  of  the  few  houses  out- 
side the  forts  which  are  of  more  than  a 
single  story.  It  bears  a  pair  of  elk  ant- 
lers over  the  door,  and  will  accommodate 
a  dozen  or  twenty  persons.  In  this  vicin- 
ity are  a  few  other  houses  which,  like  this, 
do  not  stand  upon  the  river-bank  ;  among 
others,  the  office  of  "  The  Nor'wester,"  a 
weekly  newspaper  started  the  preceding 
Christmas,  —  a  low,  one-storied  structure, 
with  a  thatched  roof,  and  rough,  plastered 
concrete  walls,  built  in  a  wooden  frame.  * 
Two  young  men  are  at  once  editors  and 


« 


•A#.'.:!;';<M|BJ 

?■       '•'-■'.,;..:,'.-i,t.;«i!;A' 

*~       ■i!V<.,''.''i5BH 


:}i 


If 


1    :i   1 


Fort  Garry. 


119 


compositors.  It  even  boasts  a  sign-board 
over  the  door. 

Fort  Garry  itself,  which  fronts  on  the 
Assiniboine,  close  to  its  mouth,  stands  a 
little  apart,  the  ground  about  it  being  held 
open  by  the  company ;  and  it  contains 
some  buildings  of  more  significance,  built 
of  stone  or  axe-hewn  logs,  and  two  and 
a  half  stories  high, — storehouses  for  the 
produce  and  provisions  of  the  colony,  and 
offices  for  the  company.  Their  roofs  and 
even  their  upper  stories  can  be  seen  ris- 
ing above  the  high  stone  walls,  seamed 
with  cracks  of  age,  which  enclose  the 
whole,  loopholed  for  musketry,  and  guarded 
at  the  four  corners  by  rounded,  bastion- 
like towers,  which  are  pierced  for  small 
artillery.  A  portion  of  the  wall,  however, 
of  older  date,  is  made  entirely  of  logs,  now 
well  decayed,  and  perhaps  part  of  the  ori- 
ginal structure,  about  twenty-five  years 
old. 

The  buildings  at  the  lower  fort  are 
somewhat  older ;  the  one  we  occupied  dur- 


I20 


A  Unique  Settlement. 


■:*■   ' 


» ,V* 


.:    f 


ir<l 


m 


ing  our  stay  there,  the  residence  of  the 
officials,  being  a  stately  old  mansion  with 
wide  verandas,  lofty  ceilings,  heavy,  old- 
fashioned  furniture,  with  plenty  of  brass, 
even  to  swinging  knobs  on  the  doors, 
plastered  walls  painted  green,  floors  bare 
of  every  thing  but  skins,  and  open  fire- 
places in  every  room.  The  stone  wall  of 
the  fort  itself  is  about  twenty  years  old, 
three  or  four  feet  thick,  pierced  for  small- 
arms,  and  enclosing  four  or  more  acres. 
During  our  stay  at  Fort  Garry,  we  enter 
many  of  the  Indian  lodges,  and  always  find 
more  than  the  regular  occupants  within, 
whether  by  day  or  evening,  lounging  on 
the  ground  on  a  bit  of  blanket,  smoking ; 
each  person  as  he  enters  drags  a  blanket 
from  among  those  tucked  under  the  edges 
of  the  tent,  seats  himself  upon  it  without 
a  word,  and  lights  his  pipe  from  the  two 
or  three  sticks  always  burning  in  the 
centre.  The  edge  of  the  tent  is  the 
closet ;  every  thing  goes  there,  — blankets, 
food,  utensils,  guns,  and  all,  keeping  out 


FORT  c;ARRY   in   i860. 


THE  TOWN  OF  WINNIPEG  IN  1871. 


\ 


Hi    i] 


I 

'I 


Imiian  Customs. 


121 


what  little  air  might  otherwise  enter ;  for 
the  blanket,  fastened  at  the  two  upper 
corners  over  the  entrance  to  the  lod^e. 
and  forming  the  door,  is  almost  always 
kept  down.  When  twelve  or  fifteen  of 
them  get  together  in  a  lodge  too  small  to 
stand  erect  in,  close  the  door,  all  take 
their  pipes,  and  the  women  smoke  some 
bits  of  meat  for  them  —  this  is  their 
elysium. 

Yet  when  the  Indian  dude  "  gets  him- 
self up,"  he  chooses*  rather  to  display  him- 
self out  of  doors,  and  the  amount  and 
variety  of  toggery  one  can  put  on,  and  the 
fantastic  patterns  he  can  paint  on  his  face, 
are  extremely  amusing.  One  fellow  seen 
had  his  hair  done  up  in  a  CuC,  vvith  a 
row  of  brass  buttons  attached,  decreasing 
in  size  with  great  regularity  to  conform 
to  the  width  of  the  cue,  which  hung  to 
his  calves. 

At  the  time  of  our  visit,  the  Indian 
women  were  everywhere  dressing  the 
hides   of    the    buffalo    just    brought    in. 


122 


A  UniqiiC  Setllt'nH'iit. 


\  ■ 


I  ( 


,  I 


These,  by  one  contrivance  or  another,  they 
hang  up  by  one  edge;  and  after  cutting 
off  all  the  thicker  parts,  and  any  flesh 
vvhich  has  been  left  adhering  in  the  field, 
they  dig  at  it  with  a  sort  of  iron  spud, 
secured  by  a  thong  around  the  wrist,  while 
the  skin  is  held  taut  with  the  other  hand. 
It  is  afterwaiJs  swung  like  a  hammock 
over  a  fire  of  green  sticks  to  cure  it. 

We  see  plenty  of  dancing,  as  far  as  the 
squaw-dance  is  concerned,  for  it  is  going 
on  somewhere  every  night,  and  the  dull 
thrum-thrum  of  the  drums  can  be  heard 
the  night  through.  The  dancers  consist 
of  both  sexes,  from  four  to  thirty  in  num- 
ber, who  move  very  slowly  in  a  crowded 
circle,  treading  on  one  another's  heels  as 
they  diddle  along,  elbows  bent  and  hands 
drooping,  and  all  partaking  in  a  weird 
monotonous  chant  of  hay  ah  and  hijahy  sung 
through  their  noses  to  the  accompaniment 
of  a  drum  or  two,  beaten  with  great  regu- 
larity and  some  rapidity  by  one  sitting  on 
the  ground,  while  the   children  hold   up 


f  I  s 


Iihiian  Dances  tviii  Graves, 


123 


torches  of  birch-bark.  Impatient  of  such 
stupid  monotony,  one  of  our  philosophers 
one  day  seizes  one  of  their  drums  and 
plays  a  rattle-te-bang  on  it  with  his  finger- 
tips, as  the  Yankee  boy  does  upon  a  tin 
pan,  ending  up  with  resounding  applica- 
tions to  head,  elbows,  and  knees ;  to  the 
great  glee  of  the  Indian  boys,  who  vainly 
attempt  to  copy  the  feat.  Had  our  phi- 
losopher only  remained,  he  would  no  doubt 
have  been  made  a  sachem  of  the  Swampy 
Crees,  and  this  new  powwow  introduced 
in  his  honor. 

Their  graves,  which  we  have  seen  at 
various  points  from  Pembina  to  the  Sas- 
katchewan, are  made  on  the  same  model ; 
the  mounds  are  covered  with  minature  wig- 
wams, sometimes  of  split  stakes  driven 
obliquely  into  the  earth,  sometimes  of 
sticks  covered  with  birch-bark.  What  is 
curious  is  that  their  form  is  tent-shaped 
and  not  copied  after  their  conical  lodges. 
Can  it  be  that  the  ancestry  from  whom 
this  custom  must  have  been  derived,  dwelt 


124 


A  Unique  Settlenient, 


\i  M 


W-   I 


"iW 


M 


in  what  arc  called  long  houses  ? '  A  little 
hole  is  always  left  at  one  end  **  for  the 
spirit  to  crawl  out  of,"  and  within  is  al- 
ways to  be  seen  the  remains  of  a  green 
twig  that  has  been  laid  there,  or  a  white 
stone  ;  and  if  it  be  a  male,  a  stick  at  the 
head,  painted  red  with  some  carving  on 
it,  to  designate  the  totem  of  the  departed. 
Before  the  grave  a  miniature  pile  of  wood 
is  laid  for  a  fire,  and  on  the  end  of  a  long 
stick  thrust  in  the  ground  a  little  offering 
to  the  Manitou,  —  a  bit  of  fur  or  rag  or 
scarf,  or  even  a  mere  green  twig. 

I  have  said  that  the  houses  about  Upper 
Fort  Garry  were  not  all  placed  on  the 
very  banks  of  the  river.  In  this  way  they 
were  then  beginning  to  cluster  together 
a  little.  This  indeed  was  the  nucleus  of 
the  present  city  of  Winnipeg,  with  its 
hotels  and  shops,  banks,  horse-cars,  and 
educational  institutions,  its  lines  of  steam- 
ers and  railways,  connecting   it  with  all 

*  Though  we  saw  none  of  these,  yet    Hind  figures  one 
seen  at  the  settlements,  made  by  Chippeways. 


hr 


m 

■    K.'    -i' 

'Hi  '^' : 

''  '  m 

t  wr.'- 

■it    ( 

./  i»^i 

■ 

1  * 

;i» 


I: 


I 


The  New  City.  125 

points  of  the  compass.  In  1847  Sir 
George  Simpson  could  write,  "The  near- 
est names  of  civilization  are  the  village  of 
Sault  St.  Marie,  which  itself  has  a  reason- 
able share  of  elbow  room  ;  St.  Peter's  at 
the  Falls  of  the  Mississippi,  which  is 
merely  the  single  islartd  in  a  vast  ocean  of 
wilderness;  and  lastly  York  Factory  on 
Hudson  Bay,  where  an  annual  ship  anchors 
after  a  voyage  of  nearly  two  months,  even 
from  the  Ultima  Thule  of  Stromness." 
Thirteen  years  later,  at  our  visit,  a  flour- 
ishing city  stood  by  the  Falls  of  St. 
Anthony,  borrowing  its  name  from  an- 
other apostle  (for  "there  arose  a  reasoning 
among  them,  which  of  them  should  be 
greatest") ;  no  longer  in  a  "vast  ocean  of 
wilderness,"  but  surrounded  by  growing 
villages,  though  nothing  worthy  of  even 
that  name  could  be  found  nearer  the  Red 
River  Settlements  than  Crow  Wing  on  the 
upper  Mississippi,  nearly  as  far  away  as 
Lake  Superior,  unless  the  few  shanties 
around  the  stockade  at  Pembina  on  the 


■j 


nj  ■•      I 


126 


A  Unique  Settlement. 


;;» 


border  be  so  regarded.'  Beyond  our  bor- 
der the  aspect  had  not  changed,  excepting 
that  they  were  now  beginning  to  reach  out 
their  hands  toward  the  approaching  stran- 
ger, and,  banding  together  for  safety, 
threaded  their  way  in  caravans  through 
the  territory  still  subject  to  the  roaming 
savage,  to  barter  their  peltry  for  the  more 
varied  products  of  the  new  world  opened 
to  them.  Several  such  caravans  we  had 
met  on  our  outward  journey.  At  last  they 
were  becoming  independent  of  the  "  Hud- 
son Bay  Company  of  Adventurers,"  and 
were  beginning  to  feel  the  throbbing  of 
the  world's  pulse.  Then  in  rapid  strides 
came  the  changes  I  have  mentioned,  which 
have  culminated  in  the  advent  of  the  rail- 
way.    The  simplicity  and  picturesqueness 

*  It  might  however  be  remarked  that  Pembina  is  said  to 
have  polled  fifteen  hundred  Democratic  votes  in  the  Minnesota 
election  of  1S59  ( ?),  before  Dacotah  was  separated  off.  It  is 
also  said  that  the  messenger  conveying  the  official  declarations 
to  this  effect  was  robbed  of  his  papers  on  the  way  to  Minne- 
apolis, while  indulging  in  a  spree.  However,  he  manufactured 
a  new  set  the  next  morning  and  kept  on. 


Taken  hi  to  the  World. 


127 


of  the  Selkirk  Settlements  have  gone, 
never  to  return  ;  nor  can  the  experiment 
be  now  repeated  —  at  least  with  so  long 
a  history  —  in  any  quarter  of  the  globe. 
Modern  life  is  too  quick. 


A  WINDMILL  AT  THE  SETTLEMENTS. 


t5i  I 


■^:^%'f 


XI. 


Ifc»  b 


k 


t       !*.' 


ii''  '5 


ribr^^  ^(f^/fs  /«  an  Ox-cart. 

OT  many  days  after  our  arrival  at 
Fort  Garry,  the  captain  and  some 
of  the  crew  of  the  grounded  steam- 
boat arrive,  bringing  with  them,  in  a  big 
flat  boat,  the  belated  passengers,  —  a  com- 
pany of  twenty-seven  persons,  They  re- 
port the  steamer  as  laid  up  for  the  winter, 
and  the  great  question  our  philosophers 
have  now  to  solve  is  how  to  get  out  of  the 
trap  in  which  they  are  caught.  Two  of 
the  passengers,  Boston  boys,  came  down 
with  the  intention  of  making  the  journey 
out,  by  way  of  ;  Lake  of  the  Woods ;  but 
the  difficulty  <  procuring  good  guides,  and 
the  length  of  the  journey,  have  deterred 
them,  and  they  join  our  philosophers  over 

the  puzzle.     The  "  fall  trains  "  to  St.  Paul 
128 


i 


Our  Party. 


129 


are  not  to  start  for  nearly  a  month,  at  the 
completion  of  harvest  ;  but,  by  dint  of 
persuasion  and  gold,  our  host  of  the  Royal 
Hotel,  Mr.  McKinney,  a  stalwart  Canadian 
and  a  brother-in-law  of  the  Dr.  Schultz 
who  afterward  figured  so  largely  in  Mani- 
toba history,  finally  agrees,  on  so  good  a 
nucleus,  to  start  a  train  himself.  A  cler- 
gyman of  the  settlement  and  his  wife 
.  (who  by  the  way  has  never  seen  a  railway), 
the  wife  of  one  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany's factors,  going  under  their  escort  to 
her  Scottish  home,  a  gentleman  from  St. 
Paul,  a  returned  miner  from  Colville  Val- 
ley, and  a  theological  student  from  Toronto 
University,  add  their  names  to  the  list ; 
and  in  a  little  more  than  a  week  after  the 
advent  of  the  steamer's  company,  our 
little  caravan  takes  its  departure.  To  the 
eleven  patrons  of  the  party  are  added  Mr. 
McKinney,  who  goes  as  master  of  the 
train,  and  eight  teamsters  and  servants, 
n  ostly  balf-breeds.  The  driver  who  takes 
the   philosophers   under  his   special   care 


130       Three  Weeks  in  an  Ox-Cart 


rejoices  in  the  name  of  Malcolm  Mclver; 
one  other  is  detailed  as  special  servant  for 
the  ladies  ;  while  Sanclin  the  cook,  having 
served  as  a  clown  iu  a  circus,  and  being 
able  to  stand  on  the  brink  of  a  brook, 
bend  his  body  backward,  thrust  his  head 
between  his  legs,  and  drink  from  the 
brook,  turns  out  to  have  other  accomplish- 
ments than  those  affecting  the  cuisine. 

It  is  a  stylish  enough  turnout  for  Red 
River.  Three  large  emigrant-wagons,  with 
canvas  coverings  of  the  most  approved 
pattern,  but  of  very  different  hues,  drawn 
each  by  a  yoke  of  oxen,  convey  the  pa- 
trons of  the  party,  with  the  exception  of 
the  miner,  who  rides  his  horse.  The  phi- 
losophers take  the  lead  under  a  brown  can- 
vas ;  the  miscellaneous  gentlemen  follow 
under  a  black  canvas  full  of  holes ;  while 
the  third  wagon,  with  a  cover  of  spotless 
purity,  conveys  the  ladies  and  the  clergy- 
man. 

Stylish  enough  at  the  front,  but  dete- 
riorating toward  the  tail,  for  there  follow. 


a 


< 
m 

3} 

O 
> 

X 

H 


o 

z 


o 

o 
a 


Our  Caravan. 


131 


not  only  half-a-dozen  Red-river  carts,  with 
a  most  promiscuous  assortment  of  bag- 
gage, peltry,  and  squeak,  drawn  mostly  by 
oxen,  but  also  a  stray  ox  and  pony  or  two, 
a  number  of  armed  horsemen,  and  a  troop 
of  friends  from  the  settlement,  come,  as 
is  their  wont,  to  see  their  friends  off,  — 
some  ou  ponies,  and  some  in  vehicles  of 
all  sorts,  even  including  a  most  discordant 
buggy.  Although  these  friends  pass  only 
the  first  night  with  us,  our  caravan  in- 
creases rather  than  diminishes  as  we  go 
along, — just  how  we  do  not  see,  but  prob- 
ably by  the  nocturnil  advent  of  some 
belated  party,  who  wishes  to  take  this 
opportunity  of  escaping  to  the  outer  world, 
or  of  providing  at  an  early  day  for  his 
winter  wants.  At  any  rate,  when  we  are 
three  or  four  days  out,  our  train  is  by  no 
means  an  insignificant  one,  as  it  threads 
its  way  over  the  prairie  in  its  devious 
course,  a  dozen  mounted  warriors  in  ad- 
vance on  the  lookout  for  signs  of  Indians, 
followed  by  about  two  dozen  carts,  numer- 


I 


i;a 


I  I 


111 /pi : 


'I 


M  t 


!■!  (         I 


132        Thnr  IVcchs  in  an  Ox-Cari. 

oils  cattle  and  ponies  dangling  along  for 
half  a  mile,  and  one  poor  buffalo  whose 
calf  is  tied  on  the  floor  of  one  of  the  jolt- 
ing carts,  where  it  perishes  miserably  on 
the  road. 

Ferrying  over  the  Assiniboine,  which 
must  be  done  at  the  very  outset,  detains 
us  a  couple  of  hours,  so  that,  as  we  start 
after  dinner,  we  are  soon  obliged  to  camp, 
Our  road  lies  southward  along  the  Red 
River,  but  here  at  some  distance  from  it, 
so  that  on  camping  we  can  find  no  water 
beyond  what  can  be  baled  painfully  out 
of  a  neighboring  marsh  ;  and  wood  is  so 
scarce  that  it  is  difficult  to  procure  enough 
to  cook  by.  The  lack  of  any  thing  more 
than  the  ghost  of  a  camp-fire  does  not, 
however,  seem  to  dampen  the  "hilarious 
ardor  of  our  Red-river  guests,,  and  the 
camp  is  not  quiet  until  the  small  hours  of 
the  morning.  We  are  roused  again  by 
four  o'clock ;  but  in  the  dense  fog  it  takes 
so  long  to  gather  in  the  wandering  cattle, 
that  it  is  half-past  five  before  we  bid  our 


'1    •: 


How  We  Pass  the  Time. 


133 


jovial  friends  adieu,  and  start  breakfastless 
on  our  five-hundred-mile  journey  over  the 
plains. 

As  in  canoeing,  with  few  exceptions, 
one  day  is  much  like  another,  only  here 
the  weather  is  not  allowed  in  the  least 
to  interfere  with  movement.  We  are 
always  up  by  daybreak,  and  travel  an 
hour  or  two  before  we  breakfast ;  another 
spell  of  travel,  and  then  a  longer  rest,  as 
the  cattle  must  be  allowed  to  graze  to 
their  content.  An  old  bit  of  straw-mat- 
ting is  spread  on  the  grass,  the  dishes 
piled  on  it  promiscuously,  and  we  seat 
ourselves,  Turk-fashion,  until  Sandin,  by 
the  fire  to  leeward,  has  boiled  the  tea 
and  meat.  Hard  tack  and  pemmican  are 
again  our  staples.  After  a  few  hours 
more  of  joggling,  during  which  our  prin- 
cipal occupation,  as  in  the  morning,  is 
card-playing  on  the  floor  of  the  wagon, 
seated  on  buffalo -skins,  our  camp  is 
pitched  at  some  favorable  spot,  —  some- 
times, however,  not  reached  until  far  into 


III 

If' 


i.  \ 


f; 


s 


II 


134       Three  Weeks  in  an  Ox-Cart 


St 


r  i 


it,     i 


the  night.  But  however  late  or  however 
early  we  may  camp,  the  dawn  sees  us 
astir.  And  so  day  after  day  passes  by, 
its  monotony  rarely  relieved  by  any  stir- 
ring events,  excepting  when  it  becomes 
necessary  to  cross  a  river.  Then  there  is 
always  some  fun.         - 

In  crossing  Scratching  River,  north  of 
the  boundary,  we  find  a  house,  and  an 
apology  for  a  ferry  in  the  shape  of  a  rick- 
ety scow,  three-fourths  full  of  water,  shaky 
stakes  to  which  to  fasten  the  ferry-ropes, 
and  a  couple  of  cripples  to  manage  it, 
who  charge  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  per  head 
for  the  service.  We  actually  effect  a  safe 
passage,  though  one  load  nearly  capsizes, 
with  our  own  wagon  on  it.  This  was  the 
way  of  it :  one  of  the  thirsty  oxen  rushed 
to  the  side  of  the  boat  for  a  drink,  over- 
weighting the  scow's  side  so  suddenly 
that  the  ox,  still  yoked,  tumbled  into  the 
river,  and  was  with  difficulty  unyoked 
during  his  flounderings,  while  we  rushed 
to  the  opposite  side  as  a  make-weight. 


\i 


■.^' 


er 


us 


ir- 


es 


IS 


I 


i  if 


,!         i 


1 


A  Cart  as  a  Ferrv-Boat.        i 


35 


The  lively  fun,  however,  comes  when  we 
reach  the  first  of  the  Two  Rivers,  narrow, 
deep,  and  swift  streams,  reached  shortly 
after  we  had  crossed  and  left  the  Red 
River,  and  were  making  our  way  in  a 
diagonal  course  through  the  State  of  Min- 
nesota. Here  the  only  apparent  means 
of  crossing  is  a  canoe  with  one  end  com- 
pletely stove  in ;  by  means  of  which, 
however,  one  of  the  men,  with  a  long 
thong  trailing  behind  him,  manages  to 
reach  the  opposite  shore  just  as  it  fills. 
But  the  men  are  quite  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion ;  the  box  of  the  philosophers'  wagon 
is  removed  from  its  truck,  the  covering, 
together  with  that  of  one  of  the  other 
wagons;  wrapped  around  the  bottom  and 
sides,  long  thongs  attached  to  its  two 
ends,  and  behold !  a  ferry-boat.  It  is 
launched,  filled  with  baggage,  and  while 
the  man  on  the  other  shore  drags  the 
boat  over  as  swiftly  as  possible,  a  light 
fellow  rides  over  to  balance  it  in  the 
eddies,  and  to  bale  out  the  leakage  as  fast 


'  s- 


136       Three  Weeks  in  an  Ox-Cart 

as  possible ;  though  with  all  his  efforts  it 
always  arrives  half  full  of  water,  to  the 
no  small  detriment  of  its  baggage,  and 
several  times  it  is  nearly  swamped.  It  is 
easily  pulled  back  empty,  with  two  men 
afterward  to  do  the  heavy  hauling. 

So  it  goes  on  until  it  comes  the  passen- 
gers* turn.  A  large  box  is  then  placed  at 
the  bottom,  and  on  this  another,  as  a  seat 
above  the  waters,  on  which  the  ladies  are 
ferried  over  singly,  not  without  fright,  be- 
ing warned  by  repeated  shouts  to  "keep 
perfectly  still,"  as  they  begin  to  shriek 
at  the  rapid  filling  of  the  strange  craft 
in  mid-stream.  Horses  and  oxen  are 
swum  across,  with  many  ludicrous  adven- 
tures, while  the  carts  are  drawn  over  by 
a  yoke  of  oxen  on  the  opposite  shore 
attached  to  a  long  line,  a  man  swimming 
at  the  tail  of  each  cart  to  keep  it  from 
upsetting.  As  the  stream  is  full  of  huge 
sunken  crees,  the  banks  high,  precipitous, 
and  of  a  most  tenacious  clay,  and  the 
crossing   has  to  be  made  in  the  rain,  we 


Overboard ! 


137 


are  not  a  little  disgusted  to  find  the  sec- 
ond of  the  Two  Rivers  close  at  hand,  and 
quite  as  bad  as  the  first.  This  over,  how- 
ever, the  remaining  rivers  are  fordable 
until  we  reach  the  Mississippi  opposite 
Crow  Wing,  where  it  is  again  provided 
with  a  ferry. 

Here,  however,  a  ludicrous  disaster  oc- 
curs. The  ferry-boat  is  small,  and  only 
two  of  the  Red-river  carts  can  be  accom- 
modated on  it  at  once.  Now,  Sandin  has 
two  carts  in  charge,  one  containing  bales 
of  peltry,  the  other  the  provisions,  the 
cooking  utensils,  and  a  barrel  containing 
the  bones  of  the  buffalo-calf  deceased  en 
route,  which  the  naturalist  prepared,  on  one 
of  the  jolting,  rickety  carts,  in  the  broiling 
sun,  alternating  with  heavy  showers,  at 
much  risk,  and  with  the  loss  of  one  dinner 

The  ox  in  the  cart  in  advance  is  a  wild 
creature,  which  has  given  Sandin  no  end 
of  trouble,  and  when  he  is  driven  upon 
the  unsteady  ferry-boat,  makes  no  stop 
at    the   farther  end,   but   leaps   headlong 


138       Three  Weeks  in  an  Ox-Cart 


2  I' 


'1 

if*' 


i 


into  the  deep  river,  pulling  after  him  not 
only  his  own  cart  as  a  matter  of  course, 
but  also  the  hinder  ox  and  cart,  attached 
to  the  tail  of  his  own  by  a  raw-hide  thong, 
which  only  breaks  too  late  to  prevent  the 
double  catastrophe.  Every  thing  is  upset, 
and  down  the  Mississippi  go  floating  no 
end  of  boxes,  bales,  pails,  kegs,  and  barrels, 
while  the  oxen,  with  empty  carts  but  with 
infinite  difficulty,  paddle  their  own  way 
across  to  the  distant  bank,  and  are  finally 
rescued  a  mile  or  more  down  stream,  com- 
pletely exhausted.  vSandin  jumps  into  a 
dug-out  at  hand,  and,  cook-like,  rescues 
first  his  pots  and  kettles,  and  then  the 
more  valuable  stuff. 

The  poor  naturalist's  anxiety  about  the 
rescue  of  the  buffalo-bones,  over  which 
he  has  expended  so  much  time  and  pains, 
draws  down  upon  his  innocent  head  the 
imprecations  of  the  master  of  the  train, 
whose  most  valuable  furs  have  been  wet 
tb^-ough  and  through,  and  the  unmerited 
scorn   of  his  companions,  who  gaze  with 


t.    <' 


A  Soaking  Iruleed. 


139 


mournful  countenance  upon  soaked  bis- 
cuit, tea,  and  sugar.  On  two  former  oc- 
casions the  hard-tack  had  been  rescued 
one  by  one  from  a  watery  grave,  not  im- 
proving their  quality ;  and  as  a  day's 
delay  here  is  necessary  to  dry  the  soaked 
skins,  not  only  these  but  biscuit,  tea  and 
sugar  are  spread  out  into  the  sun  to  dry. 
At  every  meal  thereafter  we  are  reminded 
of  the  Father  of  Waters.  There  is  some- 
thing a  little  insipid  about  the  food. 

Had  we  delayed  our  journey  a  single 
week,  we  should  have  met  a  couple  of 
thousand  Indians  at  Red  Lake  River, 
assembled  to  make  a  treaty  with  the  Gov- 
ernment. So  at  least  Gen.  Patterson  tells 
us,  who  meets  us  here.  As  it  is,  we  see 
very  few;  Buffalo,  and  Mrs.  and  Miss 
Buffalo,  with  Gen.  Patterson,  and  Hole-in- 
the-Day  riding  in  a  buggy  on  his  way  to 
them,  being  the  more  notable.  At  tht 
season  in  which  we  cross  the  prairies  — 
for  it  is  prairie-land  the  entire  distance  — 
there  is  no  game,  and,  until  we  reach    no 


140       Three  Weeks  in  an  Ox-Cart 


[H 


\ 


lake  region,  we  only  once  or  twice  see 
any  thing  larger  than  a  gopher,  namely, 
a  bear  and  a  deer ;  even  birds  art  scarce, 
a  few  dozen  prairie-chickens  and  ducks, 
and  a  few  plover,  being  all  worth  men- 
tioning, besides  the  sand-hill  cranes. 

Arrived  at  the  lake  region,  we  take 
heart  at  pioneer  towns,  —  so  they  call 
them;  nay,  I  should  say  cities, — which 
betoken  our  approach  to  civilization.  The 
first  is  Leaf  City,'  actually  down  on  the 
maps  of  the  day,  though  there  is  but  a 
single  house  there.  We  camp  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  our  songs,  for  long 
life  in  the  wilds  has  made  us  a  roist.  ring 
set,  ring  to  the  praises  of  the  mayor,  the 
board  of  aldermen,  and  the  common  coun- 
cil of  the  great  city,  who  have  turned  out 
en  masse  to  supp]  '  us  bountifully  with 
the  products  of  their  wide-extending  ter- 
ritory. Between  this  and  the  Chippeway 
Agency,  near  Crow  Wing,  there  is  but  a 
single  house,  also  dignified  with  a  name, 
Wadena,  on  the  maps.      . 

^  See  Appendix. 


i 

I 


The  Journeys  Fjid.  141 

Once  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, the  signs  of  settlement  multiply,  and 
after  a  day's  delay,  as  before  mentioned, 
to  dry  our  stores  at  Crow  Wing  (which 
we  improve  by  a  charming  visit  at  Fort 
Ripley),  we  reach  in  two  days  St.  Cloud, 
one  day's  staging  from  St.  Paul,  and  on 
our  former  line  of  travel.  After  one 
more  journey  with  the  caravan,  the  whole 
party  grows  impatient  of  the  oxen,  and, 
some  on  foot  and  some  in  the  stage,  make 
their  way  to  St.  Paul,  a  day  in  advance  of 
the  train,  twenty  -  two  days  from  Fort 
Garry.  Here  our  connection  wi^^h  the 
world  is  complete.  We  have  regained 
civilization,  after  an  absence  from  it  of 
barely  less  than  three  months  (June  16- 
Sept.  13),  during  which  we  have  travelled 
about  thirty-five  hundred  miles. 


V 

A 

f 


i 


APPENDIX. 


V 


Thf  ^vriter  has  not  visited  Minnesota  since 
the  journey  here  recorded,  but  it  may  prove  in- 
teresting to  add  a  word  on  the  immense  devel- 
opment of  the  region  through  which  he  travelled 
by  stage  and  ox-cart,  finding  beyond  the  Missis- 
sippi but  one  house  to  a  "  town,"  though  these 
were  all  duly  registered,  and  placed  on  the  maps 
of  the  day. 

A  railway  now  runs  through  the  fertile  Sauk 
River  valley,  with  frequent  stations  between  the 
Mississippi  and  Red  River,  which  it  strikes  about 
a  dozen  miles  below  (icorgetown,  at  Fargo,  and 
so  connects  with  the  Northern  Pacific.  As  far 
as  Evansville,  it  passes  almost  exactly  over  our 
outward  route.  Kandota,'  by  the  census  of 
1880,  had  244  inhabitants;  Alexandria,  1,494; 
and  Evansville.  554.  Breckenridge  on  the  Red 
River,  with  all  its  aspirations,  has  only  reached 
436  ;  though  Wapi)eton,  just  across  the  river  in 

'  1  specify  these  places,  because  mentioned  in  the  nana- 
rative  as  our  stopping-places,  and  as  consisting  each  of  a  sin- 
gle cabin. 

142 


Then  ami  Now  in  Minnesota.       143 

Dacotah,  and  not  then  in  existence,  practically 
adds  400.  Campbell — which  we  saw  as  Camp- 
bell's, an  unfinished  shanty  not  a  week  old,  with 
one  occupant  in  the  person  of  the  original 
Campbell —  now  numbers  493.  As  Georgetown, 
though  nea'  a  line  of  railway  running  north- 
ward, is  yet  not  on  it,  it  can  hardly  l)e  a  place 
of  much  importance ;  its  former  use  expired 
with  t'le  encroaching  railways,  and  even  in  1870 
the  population  of  the  whole  county  in  which  it 
stands  amounted  to  only  92  ;  in  1880  the  county 
had  nearly  6,000,  but  no  special  returns  arc  given 
for  the  towns. 

Our  journey  back,  most  of  the  way  about  fifty 
miles  eastward  of  our  outward  course,  was  largely 
in  sight  of  the  line,  even  then  graded,  of  the 
present  St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  and  Manitoba 
Railway,  which  crosses  the  Two  Rivers  where 
we  did,  and  has  scattered  towns  all  along  its 
track,  where  we  found  nothing  but  an  endless 
open  prairie.  Leaf  City,  the  first  house  we 
found  in  Minnesota,  seems  to  be  not  yet  on  the 
line  of  railway,  and  ai)]>ears  in  the  census  as 
Leaf  Lake,  with  a  population  of  159;  but  at 
Wadena,  our  next  cabin,  we  touch  the  Northern 
Pacific  Railway :  this  shows  a  population  of 
737,  while  all  along  the  Crow  Wing  River  to  the 
Mississippi  are  found  other  thriving  villages. 
Crow  Wing,  which  I  remember  mostly  for  its 
single  store  and  hotel  in  one,  which  could  not 


*   ^ 


■U'         ! 


ii: 


i 


144 


Appendix, 


then  have  had  a  half  dozen  houses,  and  the 
population  of  which  nearly  twenty  years  later 
was  only  200,  is  now  apparently  flourishing  under 
another  name,  as  Brainerd,  with  a  population  of 
1,865. 

In  the  whole  region  traversed  by  us  beyond 
the  Mississippi  there  >  ere  at  that  time,  beyond 
a  day's  march  from  the  Mississippi,  probably 
less  than  1,000  inhabitants.  Now  (or  rather 
five  years  ago,  census  of  1880)  the  population 
of  that  portion  of  the  transmississippian  part  of 
the  State  which  we  traversed,  has  reached  70,- 
000  (of  whom  three-fifths  were  born  in  the 
State,  and  less  than  one-tenth  are  foreign- 
born),  is  crossed  by  several  railways  with  not 
a  few  branch  lines,  and  supports  twenty-eight 
newspapers. 


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